Magic by the Sea

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Chapter Sixteen

The Son of a Pirate

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It took Ryan a while to work out where he was. He and Firth had fallen asleep on the couch together - or rather, he had fallen asleep against the taller man. The man’s arm was wrapped around his waist, warm and heavy. As Ryan looked blearily up into the king’s face, he saw Firth staring solemnly out the window. There was weak greyish sunlight peeking through the window.

‘The storm has passed,’ Firth murmured as Ryan shifted.

‘We should go then,’ Ryan said as he sat up. He was a little stiff and sore from having laid awkwardly for so long. The merking glanced down at him.

‘The ferries will be able to leave the mainland now. It’s not safe for us to be here.’ Ryan stood and headed for the kitchen. His mouth and throat were dry. He poured himself a glass of water and drank it down. He nearly choked on it and his hand shook the glass until the water dribbled down his front. He was nervous and a little scared. Neither of them had eaten anything other than the toast that early morning but the thought of food made him feel queasy.

‘Let me just leave a note and we can go.’ His voice cracked a little as he placed the empty glass in the sink. He avoided looking into Firth’s face as he grabbed a notepad and pen. He looked down at it, his hand trembling.

What should he write?

That he was sorry?

That he loved them?

He tried to swallow around a hard lump in his throat. Distantly, he wondered if his father had felt this same level of resigned panic. Had he known that he was returning to his ship that morning to be taken by the mer-people?

He scrawled a few sentences. It wasn’t much but he didn’t think he could have expressed everything he wanted to say even if he took the next twenty years to come up with something.

‘Are you sure you want to leave?’ Firth asked as Ryan left the paper and came back to him.

‘We should take the book. If nothing else, it’s another written account,’ Ryan murmured. The merking nodded.

‘I can bespell it to repel water once we get to the ocean,’ Firth murmured. Ryan snorted.

‘Or I can put it in a couple of ziplock bags. No offence meant but your spells aren’t exactly working as they should at the moment. Knowing our luck, the spell would backfire, and it would be you that repelled water,’ Ryan said blandly. Firth’s face twisted into a grimace, and he hissed something in another language. Ryan didn’t need to understand said language to recognise the venomous tone as something that was probably very offensive. He gave a painful grin.

‘That’s another thing to add to my bucket list. You can teach me how to swear in mermish,’ he called as he went back into the kitchen to grab a few ziplock bags.

‘I am not teaching a human our language,’ Firth said flatly, coming around the corner holding the book. Ryan swiped it from him.

‘Really, we’re back to that? Come on, I’ll teach you how to swear, some really good contemporary ones. All your mer friends will be jealous,’ Ryan teased, carefully wiggling the book inside the first layer of plastic. Firth watched him with a bemused expression.

‘No,’ the man said. Ryan snorted, sealing the bag shut before placing another over the top just in case.

‘Fine. Your loss.’ He handed the book back to Firth.

‘Let’s go,’ Ryan said, the amusement dying away.

‘At least when we get back, we can eat something other than toast,’ he added with another weak attempt at humour. Firth’s face twisted into something that could have been pity.

‘Ryan-’

‘Heh, I was almost starting to think you didn’t know my name,’ Ryan chuckled. He tensed as strong arms coiled around him, pressing his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck. Ryan couldn’t stop his body from shaking. He took several painfully deep breaths, the air catching sharp in his lungs on each inhale.

‘I’m okay,’ he rasped. The scent of the king reminded him of the black stone beaches with its thick build-up of salt, wet sea grass and wet weathered stone. He leant against Firth, his own arms coming up around the king’s waist, following the contour of the man’s lower back. The king acted as his anchor, holding him steady as his racing heartbeat slowed. He reluctantly stepped back, missing the body heat of the other instantly. He cleared his throat and headed for the front door without another word.

The world outside dripped dismally. The storms may have cleared but the sky was still full of bulging grey clouds and the pale sunlight that clawed its way between them was weak. There was no other living soul outside yet with the exception of a few bedraggled looking seagulls winging their way further inland. It was still relatively early. Ryan reached for his jacket, then realised he probably wasn’t going to need it given he would be underwater in less than fifteen minutes. He left the house and locked the door after Firth.

The king was still watching him with concern as though he thought Ryan might completely lose it and run off screaming. It wasn’t an unfair assessment. Ryan placed the house keys under the front door mat and headed down the slick cobblestones. They set off side by side into the morning. The storm had done some damage. There were plenty of flattened plants and huge pools of water.

Despite his trepidation about what was to come, Ryan couldn’t help but notice the beauty of it all. The watery sunlight turning the pools into reflective silver mirrors, the dark green grass juxtaposed sharply against the pale muddy brown road and neat cottages of stone and timber scattered about along the landscape.

He glanced over and saw Firth staring at him avidly. The man had his hand raised as though reaching for him. Without thinking, Ryan took the man’s hand and started walking purposefully towards the nearest beach. He listened to the roaring sea and wind howling past them as they walked. Ryan hoped he was doing the right thing, that if he was going to... go, that his passing would at least break the curse.

Too soon they came to the pebbled path that led down to the water. They called it a beach, but the mouth of the bade was made up of a sharp jumble of stones and kelpy. There was no soft silky sand here or anywhere else on the island for that matter.

‘Ready?’ he asked. Firth’s jaw was pinched tight as though he were trying to swallow something sour or possibly rotting.

‘Come on then,’ Ryan murmured, tugging him down the first few steps.

‘Stop!’

The shout cut through the air like a boom of thunder, the emotion reverberating in that one word somewhere between rage, agony, terror, and disbelief. It turned their heads. Alice stood on the top of the hill, looking down at them.

The situation had suddenly become much worse on account of the fact that she was holding a gun. It wasn’t a little handgun either. It was a fucking shotgun and he had absolutely no idea where she would have even gotten it! She was pointing it down at them, or rather, she was pointing it at Firth.

‘Ryan step away from him. I’m not going to let him take you sweetie, it’s going to be okay.’ Ryan had never seen such an expression on his mother’s face. Even from this distance, he could see the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.

‘Mum, stop!’ Ryan tried to move towards her, but Firth’s grip tightened painfully on his hand, drawing him back to his side. Ryan shot the man a hard glare.

‘Firth, let go.’ He didn’t.

‘Let go of my son!’ Alice shouted, her voice rising.

‘He is not your son,’ Firth’s response came out hard and flat. Her eyes narrowed and the barrel of the gun shifted slightly higher towards Firth’s head.

‘How dare you. I raised that boy; he is mine and we love him!’ she snarled. Firth’s jaw clenched.

‘It was not the place of the boy’s father to make that decision,’ the king barked back.

‘He told me Ryan would be safe. If we left, you would grow up and have a normal life. That’s what he wanted,’ Alice said, voice faltering. Before Firth could protest, Ryan elbowed the man hard in the ribs to shut him up before he made things worse.

‘Mum, you did raise me, and I love you but I’m not a child anymore,’ Ryan’s voice cracked a little, but he tried to keep it steady. He backed up towards the pounding waves, nudging Firth to make him move.

‘Stop! You can’t leave with him. We’ll never see you again!’ she yelled. Her hands clenched on the gun and for one terrifying moment she looked as though she would pull the trigger. Ryan flung his arms out, trying to keep Firth behind him.

’I may be the son of a pirate, but I’ll be damned if I let any more blood be shed over me and my family,’ Ryan shouted. He stood between Firth and Alice, his arms out and his eyes blazing. His mother was ghostly pale. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her hair was a real mess. The wind tore at them, roaring like a living thing.

‘You can’t go with him. I don’t want you to go with him,’ she sobbed, and Ryan felt something inside him fracture. He had never wanted to cause this pain to people around him, to the family who raised him. It didn’t matter that they weren’t related by blood, they had raised him, loved him, and taught him right from wrong.

‘Sometimes doing what is right goes against doing what we want,’ he said calmly. It was strange, but he did feel calm. He still felt that pain, the fear of the unknown and the sadness of leaving his family but it seemed distant, as though he was viewing it from the other side of a window. It wasn’t important right now.

‘This is about resetting an imbalance in the world. People took something from them, so they need to take someone in return.’

‘But why does it have to be you?’ Alice shouted, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

‘Because I choose to go. It has to be freely given,’ and as Ryan says this, the statement feels right. He didn’t know how he knew, but this was how it needed to be.

‘We are leaving now and you’re not going to shoot us.’ At least he prayed she wouldn’t. The merking tried to interject.

‘Ryan-’

‘Shut up and let me do this. Start walking, I’m going to cover you,’ Ryan hissed. This was hard enough without Firth being a stubborn asshole.

The barrel of the gun shook violently as Alice’s aim wavered.

‘Ryan, move!’ The words were shouted not just by Alice but Firth as well.

‘No!’ He felt a hand on his arm trying to wrench him to one side, but he would not be shifted. The world slowed. A drop of water could be the rotation of the earth. The roar of the ocean became a distant muted breeze. The sight of the black cliffs, shifting seagrass, squawking gulls and endless ocean melted away at the edges of his vision as he stared up at his mother and the down the barrel of the gun which would almost certainly kill him at such close range.

He would not be moved.

With a slowness that could melt the polar ice caps, Alice lowered the gun. She shook violently from head to toe, and she sobbed as though she had already pulled the trigger. The gun fell to the pebbled beach.

It was over.

The world suddenly shifted forward. The wind fell away on all sides and the sun ripped a hole through the oceans of grey clouds above. Firth looked up at them in open alarm, but the sudden silence did not shock Ryan as much as what happened next.

The collar around his throat fell away like wet sand. His hands went up to grab it, but it was just... gone. He turned and stared at Firth; his eyes as wide as the king.

‘The collar. What does this mean?’ Ryan croaked. Firth reaching a shaking hand up to touch the soft bare skin of his neck.

‘It can’t be,’ the merking mumbled. Firth took a step back. Then another.

‘Firth, what-’ but the man had already turned and was running to the surf. A thrill of horror swept through Ryan like an electric shock and without thinking he raced after the man. It was only once the ice water hit his legs that he remembered that he would no longer be able to breathe underwater. He shouted the king’s name, but his only response was a brief glimpse of a large silver fin, before he was gone.

He stood in shock as painful needling cold slowly spread up his calves from the icy water. He could hear his mother still calling his name and he stumbled back. He glanced into the powerful waves and foam but there was no sign of the merman. Ryan went to his mother’s side.

--

It took a long time to get Alice into some semblance of calm. Ryan took her very slowly back to the house, the gun tucked uncomfortably under his arm. The house was still warm from the fire he had lit in the grate earlier that morning. She was so pale and shaken. Her grip on his arm was vicelike. In a moment of revulsion, he was reminded painfully of Dania with her gaunt face and long claws. He carefully eased his mother into a chair and made her a cup of very strong sweet tea, stirring a shot of baileys into the dark liquid.

After bundling her tight in a blanket and changing his pants to a pair that weren’t wet from the ocean, he sat down on the couch. They sat in silence together for a long time. She seemed to be in shock and Ryan didn’t know what to say to help. It felt like nearly an hour before the front door banged open, making them both jump. Ryan’s heart gave a hard thump in his chest as he leapt to his feet but the figure that stood in the doorway had grey hair, not white.

Grandpa Jo swept into the house, Tyler on his heels and for once, looking every year his age. He saw Ryan and swept hin up into a brutal, rib cracking hug. Ryan tried to garble out some sort of reassurance, but his lungs weren’t working. As soon as his grandfather let go, Tyler launched himself at his older brother, driving him back onto the couch.

‘Is it over?’ Grandpa Jo asked hesitatingly.

‘I don’t know,’ Ryan murmured honestly.

Jo looked over at the kitchen counter where the gun sat, his eyebrows lifting.

‘Did you...?’ he rasped.

‘No. Everyone is okay,’ Ryan murmured because his mother still looked nearly catatonic with the morning’s events. He didn’t say anything else, just snatched it up and took it away before Tyler caught sight of it. More cups of tea and a plate of biscuits later and Alice seemed to come back to herself a little. She still jumped at sudden noises and seemed to need to keep Ryan in view at all times.

Once again, Ryan was desperately grateful that Tyler seemed to be too young to understand what was going on. His little brother was delighted to be home and have everyone with him. Grandpa Jo put on some cartoons for him to watch. The television murmured on in the background.

‘He went back to the ocean,’ Ryan explained. He was surprised by how much the statement oddly hurt. He felt abandoned. Which was ridiculous. If the collar was gone that must mean the spell Firth had placed on him was broken. Firth no longer needed to be near him for his own sanity. Was that all that had happened though? Why hadn’t he come back and what would happen now?

‘We need some groceries for dinner,’ Jo said. Alice nodded.

‘I need to unpack our things,’ she said in a hollow sounding voice.

‘Do you want some help?’ Ryan asked her. She nodded and stood. Jo looked from one to the other, clearly still very worried but there wasn’t much to do but give them time and space.

‘I’ll be back shortly then.’ Grandpa Jo said uncomfortably. He took some bags from under the sink and left through the front door. Alice glanced over at Tyler but the boy was still engrossed in his movie so she left him there and went to his bedroom. Ryan followed timidly. He watched uncomfortably as she unpacked some clothes from a suitcase without once looking at him.

‘Mum?’ She didn’t reply. She tossed a few of Tyler’s shirts in the laundry hamper.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured.

Nothing.

‘Do you hate me?’ he asked into the silence of the room. Alice dropped the shirt she was holding and flung herself on her son. His arms came up and he hugged her tight. She was nearly a whole head shorter than him these days.

‘Of course not,’ she sobbed. His own throat was sore, and he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

‘But I don’t regret it. I regret that it would have hurt you guys, but I don’t regret leaving,’ Ryan added. She pulled back a little, her hands still twisted into the cotton of Ryan’s shirt.

‘When did you get so grownup?’ she croaked, her smile weak and watery.

‘Come on, let’s get this finished so we can make some food. I’m starving.’

--

Ryan sat on his bed, staring out at the dark night, and pitching sea in the distance. If he squinted, he could almost swear there were extra islands out there. It was late, almost midnight but he couldn’t sleep even though his eyes itched. He wanted to know what had happened to the merking. The family had eaten dinner in a subdued mood and gone to bed early. Tyler had nearly fallen asleep at the dinner table, finally able to have some peace and quiet from his cousins’ yelling.

Alice had not found out about Grandpa Jo’s plan or that he had helped Ryan get back to the island. Ryan intended to keep it that way. When Ryan had finally turned his phone back on, he found half a dozen missed calls from Trent and even a couple from Catlin. He had sent them both a text, apologising for not contacting them, saying that his phone had been broken and he had been on the mainland with his aunt and uncle.

They were going to meet up tomorrow. It was so strange that the rest of the world had just trundled along, normal, and perfectly unbothered by pirates or mermaids. It was then that he had remembered with an uncomfortable jolt that Firth still had his father’s book with him. It was his last link to his biological father, and he might never see it again. Ryan sighed and leant back against his pillows. Well. If nothing else, all of this would make an insane story for when he was himself an old man.

Suddenly, he straightened sharply. Something had flashed way out in the distance, catching the edge of his peripheral vision. Was something out there?

He narrowed his eyes as he stared out at the hill. Surely something had moved? He was sure something had moved. Without hesitating, he pulled on his jeans, jacket and shoes and stealthily treaded out of his bedroom and to the back door. The house was perfectly quiet except for the occasional rumbling snores from his grandfather. Expertly closing the outside door in silence, he broke into a run as soon as he hit the footpath. He ran flat out right down to the beach.

Firth stood on the pebbles; his silver hair almost luminous in the moonlight. He was still unearthly pale, still tall and still imposing but he looked decades younger with the large smile across his face.

‘You came back,’ Ryan panted.

‘I did. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner,’ the king replied, coming to meet him. Ryan gave a faint grin.

‘Not going to lie, I did start to wonder if you would,’ Ryan confessed, voicing the heavy weight that had settled in his stomach as he watched Firth disappear into the ocean without him.

‘So, is it gone, the spell you put on me?’ he asked. The merman’s grin grew wider.

’Not just my spell. All of it.’ His voice cracked slightly, as though his words went past his own understanding.

Ryan blinked, his brain chugging to keep up. ‘All of it? Wait, you don’t mean… the curse? It’s gone?’ he rasped.

‘It’s gone!’ Firth lunged forward, wrapping powerful arms around Ryan, and hoisting him into the air as though he were a stuffed toy. Ryan let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and laugh.

‘But how?’

‘We aren’t sure yet. Den is still studying our records,’ Firth admitted. He put Ryan back on his feet but didn’t let go of him. They stared transfixed at each other for several long moments, just absorbing the happy calm and the roar of the waves. Ryan didn’t really want to step back away from the man.

‘What now?’ he asked, his eyes fixing onto the pale lips of the taller man.

‘Do you still doubt my faculties?’ Firth said, a slightly wicked twist to his lips.

‘Well, the spell is gone proper, isn’t it?’ Ryan asked, his breathes shortening.

‘Yes.’

‘Then I guess not,’ he said, grinning. Firth gave a growl, the sound of it raising goose flesh along Ryan’s arms. It was the only warning he got before the taller man rushed him. Cold fingers slid under Ryan’s shirt and ran along his belly. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He buried his hands in Firth’s long hair and dragged the man’s head down for a hard kiss.

There was sharpness to the other’s teeth and Ryan had to slow so as to not to cut himself on the lethal canines. They pressed closer together, the water still clinging to Firth’s body dampening Ryan’s clothes. The night was oddly still and warm. There was no blustery cold gale or icy nip to the air.

Ryan was grateful for this as his jacket was shoved off his shoulders and his shirt was worked down his arms. He felt completely swept up and under by this man. He sighed into the kiss, tasting the familiar sea salt and rain. His jacket and shirt were thrown down on a small hillock of thick grasses, thankfully above the pebbled beach line. Ryan sat down heavily, yanking Firth down with him. The king willingly covered his body with his own.

Hands slid over hard sleek muscle, Ryan groaning as they met in another kiss. They took their time with each other, Ryan exploring shyly at first before becoming bolder. He ran his hands over everything he could reach, feeling old battle scars and the faintest impression of scales as his fingertips brushed over the hips and the swell of the king’s ass. Firth growled, nipping at his lower lip and tracing his tongue.

They were rubbing together like two touched starved people desperate for their first contact in decades. He tore away with a gasp as Firth ground down against his trapped cock. Some semblance of common sense came back in the few moments he had to chase oxygen.

‘Wait,’ he panted. Firth drew back, his eyes liquid silver and half closed. Ryan shivered at their intensity.

‘As much as this feels incredible, I’m… I’m really not keen on doing this raw,’ he said in a tight, slightly embarrassed voice. Firth chuckled softly and drew something out of the makeshift pants he was wearing. Ryan stared at it.

‘So, you were just, what, carrying around a vial of oil with you? How many humans do you fuck by moonlight?’ Ryan teased. Firth snorted and leant in for a bite. Ryan tossed his head back, offering more of his neck to the sharp teeth.

‘Just one human in particular,’ Firth purred. He seemed to sober then and reached a hand out to stroke Ryan’s jawline with one thumb.

‘We don’t have to go any further though. This wasn’t meant to be so… unexpected,’ Firth said, his voice gentling. Ryan smiled, leaning into the touch.

‘You are still wearing too many clothes, undress,’ Ryan said as a way of reply and tugging on the rough fabric. Firth raised an eyebrow.

‘Am I now?’ the king said, amused. Ryan reached up and bit roughly into the man’s throat, sucking hard. Firth gasped, hips bucking.

‘Shut up and do as you’re told,’ Ryan snapped. The merman stared down at him, apparently transfixed. Voice rough with desire, the king gave a little dip of his head.

‘As you command.’ Firth worked the old trousers down his slim hips. They looked particularly woebegone, and Ryan couldn’t help wondering what century they were from or why the merman had even bothered to bring them. He yanked them out of Firth’s hands and tossed them somewhere into the dark. Firth laughed and the sound was like music. Ryan buried his fingers in the cascade of white and silver hair that tumbled down over the man’s shoulders.

‘You are so gorgeous,’ Ryan breathed. Firth stared down at him wide eyed.

‘I could say the same,’ the king replied softly. As they met for another heated kiss, Ryan was worked out of his own jeans. His cock stood straight up now that it was freed from the confines of the material. Firth retrieved the little bottle of oil and uncorked it.

‘Are you sure?’ Firth asked.

‘Yes, I trust you.’ And it was true. He did. Firth looked down at him as though Ryan cradled all the secrets of the universe, an expression of wonder and bewilderment on his face. They shifted, Firth settling himself more securely and dripping the oil out into one palm.

The first finger was an odd invasion, slick from oil and warm. Ryan shivered and mewled, spreading his legs a little wider. It felt dirty, feeling the oil drizzle down his ass and pool under him. It wasn’t until the second finger worked into him that his nails dug into Firth’s shoulders. If the man was bothered by it, he didn’t say as much. He just continued to press warm wet kisses along Ryan’s face and neck.

Ryan laid his head back, groaning as his body was stretched out. Gods it felt good. It stung and he was a little afraid of how he was going to cope with something much bigger, but he was willing to have a good go. His cock was leaking onto his belly. He brushed his fingers over it, feeling the length jump. Stroking it helped distracted from the discomfort of the stretch as Firth prepared him. A harsh cry escaped as those long fingers brushed what had to be his prostate. His hips bucked.

‘Here?’ Firth purred, rubbing again. Ryan’s gutted cry was his response. The king worked his fingers in and out, careful to play with that spot every now and again until Ryan was practically writhing.

‘You’re evil,’ Ryan whimpered. Firth chuckled and slowly withdrew his hand. There was the sound of a cork leaving a bottle again and Ryan tried not to tense. He knew what was coming next.

‘Hold onto me,’ Firth whispered. Ryan nodded, panting softly as his legs were eased onto either side of Firth’s hips. As the man pressed slowly into his body, Ryan groaned with equal amounts of pleasure and pain. Slowly the man worked to tease his sore entrance into taking his cock.

Ryan groaned at the wonderful, too full feeling as the king came to rest, balls deep in his throbbing ass. He had a death grip on Firth’s shoulders, but his own cock was still shockingly hard. Firth let out a slow breath. He started with a gentle rocking, allowing Ryan to adjust to his girth.

‘Alright?’ Firth murmured, nosing at Ryan’s ear. He nodded.

‘Yeah,’ he answered, a little breathless. Firth took the shell of Ryan’s ear into his mouth and sucked it, making the body under him squirm and clench. It was a slow build. Heat pooled tightly in Ryan’s core. He let out a yelp at the first proper hit to his prostate, his hips bucking so hard that Firth nearly lost his balance over him. The merking gave another breathy laugh and rocked back, taking hold of Ryan’s legs, and easing them around his waist. Then he really began to move.

Ryan cried out, staring up at the night sky in amazement. His body was thrumming. He didn’t dare stroke himself, his body already wound so tight he was sure he would go over if he did. His toes curled as Firth picked a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep and hard into Ryan. Ryan loved it, not caring to keep his voice down. Firth placed a sharp kiss to his lips and Ryan tasted blood; his lip nicked by a sharp tooth. He didn’t care though. He scrambled to hold onto the man. He was so close to his orgasm. He wanted to draw it out, but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to form words.

Firth’s hips stuttered, a harsh growl escaping his chest. He looked both incredible and terrifying, teeth bared and eyes glowing like moonlight. Ryan cried, the pleasure so sharp and intense. The merking was losing his pace, hips bucking hard. A clawed hand curled carefully around Ryan’s cock and Ryan lost his fight.

The orgasm tore through him, temporarily robbing him of sight and sound. His body tensed, clenching down almost violently on the cock deep inside his ass. He was vaguely aware of Firth letting out a curse before he felt the rush of heat. The feel of the hot release inside him made him gasp and his insides sting a little.

Hypersensitive, Ryan gave a tiny whimper as Firth eased out of him. Firth placed kisses to his damp cheeks before laying down beside him on Ryan’s ruined clothes. They lay, side by side in the thick grass, still catching their breath and the sound of crickets and the rise and fall of waves all around them. Ryan shifted gingerly, shivering as his body cooled in the night air. Firth placed an arm around him and tucked him in closer.

‘So, what happens now?’ he asked softly after a long while. Firth turned his head to look down at him before reluctantly sitting up. Ryan looked at the smooth line of muscle and the cascade of silver hair. He felt both nervous and a little afraid of whatever Firth would say next.

Was this it? Would the merman return to the ocean for good? He had no reason to stay now.

‘It will take some time for what is left of my tribe to regroup but then we must leave for a while.’ Firth murmured.

‘We have been isolated from the rest of the world for a long time. Though we have been able to have some knowledge of the outside through things like your television and newspapers, we have not had contact with other mer people since our capture inside the islands.’ Ryan winced.

‘Do you know where they are?’ Ryan asked softly. Firth gazed out over the rolling black sea; his brow pinched.

‘We have records of where the tribes used to be. Those in the south pole will most likely still be there as humans have not invaded far into the ice.’

‘A lot of the ice has melted and not returned in the last hundred or so years,’ Ryan admitted softly. He saw the fall in the king’s shoulders and heard the deep sigh.

‘I am aware. We aren’t sure what we will find,’ he said softly. Ryan bit his lip. He wanted to ask the man to stay but knew that was selfish.

‘How long will you be gone?’ Ryan asked meekly. The merking was quite a while in answering. It was comfortable here, leaning against each other beside the ocean. Ryan wished it was a moment he could capture.

‘I’m not sure. The world has changed violently around us. It could take some time before my people are ready to return to the islands that have been their prison, even if it is where we are safe.’ Ryan guessed that made sense. The younger mer people might never want to come back now that they were free…

‘But you’ll come back?’ Ryan whispered. Firth took Ryan’s face in his hands, cradling and angling him to meet pools of soft silver.

‘I’ll come back.’

The kiss they shared was painfully tender. It expressed in silence the uncertainty the future held for them and the rush of emotions they both carried: love, fear, worry and longing. It was raw and neither wanted to be the first to move way.

Surprisingly, it was Ryan who took that first step. He pulled back and looked up the king.

‘You should go. Go be the king your people need and when you’re ready, I’ll be here, on this island,’ Ryan vowed.

Firth shook his head in amazement. ‘I’ll hold you to that agreement,’ Firth uttered. Ryan squeezed the man’s hand hard for a brief moment before, reluctantly, painfully, letting it go.

‘You truly are the strangest human I have ever met,’ Firth said, half in exasperation, half in pride. Ryan grinned.

‘And don’t you forget it,’ Ryan chided.

Firth didn’t bother putting the old tatty trousers back on as he stood. He just turned and slowly strode back towards the water. He waded in until the waves washed over his hips. He looked back over his shoulder towards the beach. Ryan raised a hand to wave, trying to ignore the constricting feeling in his chest. Firth waved back slowly.

There was a flash of silver as a huge, long tail arced into the air. Ryan watched, throat and chest tight as the man dove forward into the waves. There was a flick of a sharp fin, a glittering of scales and the merking was gone.

--

FIN

--