Chapter Text
Sunbeams reached down past the crest of the water’s surface, refracting and spreading out across the sand beneath. To any outsider, the water appeared tranquil and perfect. It was the picture of peace. To those who lived in the ocean and beyond the limited depths of the tide pool, the sea was as unpredictable as the weather. A pair of hazel eyes scanned the highlighted sections of the sea floor, quickly assessing if any potential danger lurked in the warm sunlight.
It was still early morning, barely more than a handful of minutes since the sun had risen in the great sky. Schools of fish flittered about, darting above anemones, mussels, and one or two crabs, who were already digging. Their shadows danced along the sand cutting across the glistening sun rays. Once the owner of the hazel eyes determined the tidal pool was safe, she slipped over the edges of the coral reef she’d been hiding behind. When she entered the shallows, not a single creature was bothered by her presence, for she, like them, was there for a reason.
Often the mermaid was warned about adventuring close to land. The tidal pool’s proximity to humans was a risk, but it was one she was willing to take if it meant she’d find more valuable items to trade. While scavenging further off the coast meant rooting through the skeletons of old ships, scanning the shoreline meant discovering more unique finds. The more unique, the higher the value of the trade. Trading meant survival, so if she needed to swim a bit harder, search a bit faster and then dive into the dark depths away from any potential threat, she would.
She’d spent so many hours scouring the shallows for treasure, her scales and skin had taken on different colors. Unlike the days of her youth, the mermaid’s tail was a golden beige. Her constant treks near the surface had washed away her green and blue scales, leaving her with a tawny color. It helped her blend in with the sand, camouflaging her when she kept still against the ocean floor. The smooth skin of her upper half had darkened to tan, dotted with freckling across her shoulders and face.
Regardless of where she’d been born, her home was now off the desolate isle of Jakku, where the waters were always warm and the sun shone nearly every day. She didn’t mind the heat or the sun. In fact, the mermaid was quite fond of her home, even if it was the only one she’d ever known. At least here she was able to live her own life, no matter how difficult that life may be. Out here, she was free to swim where she wanted and the only master she served was her own stomach.
“Rey!” A rough voice cut through the clear blue water.
Startled, she turned in the direction of the voice’s owner, wincing when she saw Plutt. Internally, Rey referred to the bulbous headed cretin as a hot-headed blowfish. Of course, he was the sole organism who dared trade with her. Plutt was many things but Rey relied on him so she could secure additional supplies and food.
“What do you want, Plutt?” She called over the coral barrier to him.
“You best get back here, girl,” he demanded. “Don’t want to be seen.”
“There haven’t been humans on the island in years,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m too quick for a human to catch me.”
“Fine,” he snarled. “It’s your fin on the line, if yer caught.”
“I won’t be caught,” she snapped back.
Turning tail, Rey skimmed across the gritty surface of the sunlit sand. Though what she’d told Plutt was true, she couldn’t help but feel a trickle of anxiety creep into her normally calm demeanor. She hastened her efforts.
Her eyes scanned the normal areas where treasure got stuck from the changing tides. When all the typical places came up bare, she began searching through the crevices of the reef. The waters had been rougher the last two nights due to a storm passing through. It was likely the power of the waves had hidden any treasure from sight.
While she’d never seen a human on the island, Rey had seen a human before. The legged creatures frequented the waters here, drawn to the warmth just as she was. They often left pieces of themselves behind — some worth a great deal and some knickknacks which only she found beauty in. Rey collected what she couldn’t trade, decorating her home with the pieces others thought unworthy. Like her, they had been discarded without a care but with her, they found a place in this world.
Sure enough, the first divot in the coral revealed a shiny thin chain of metal. Rey untangled it from the rough rock, careful not to scratch it. At first glance, she believed the chain to be made of gold, but she knew Plutt would inspect and verify the quality before he offered a price for it. Tucking the chain into her satchel, she continued her search.
Her efforts were fruitful and she finished up with a small replica human (probably some form of toy), a soft yard of fabric, a few coins and finally a yellow rubber animal of some sort. When she squeezed it, the animal made a squeaking sound which sent all the wildlife around her scattering. With a laugh, Rey pocketed it, knowing someone would find amusement in the strange object. Perhaps Ackbar would be interested.
She found a few other things, before she swam back over the reef. There was a knife, a bit of netting and a handful of broken leather straps. The items held no trading value, but to Rey they were priceless. The knife and netting would come in handy on future scavenging runs. The leather straps were for her. She liked to tie her hair up and back to keep it from interfering with her searches.
Decorating her chestnut locks was a practical mission for Rey, not a beautification process like the others of her kind supposedly went through. It was said when her kind frequented the oceans, mermaids spent hours polishing their scales and knotting their tresses with beads and shells to attract a mate. Rey couldn’t imagine such a thing. She was far too busy scavenging to be bothered preening for some merman. Her kind mated for life which might have sounded romantic to someone else but to Rey it sounded like a trap.
She had no interest in a mate. Even if they were the last two in the seven seas.
In all her life, Rey had never seen another mermaid or merman. Her earliest memory was of being a small child swimming around Jakku looking for her parents. She didn’t remember their names or her own. It wasn’t until Plutt came across her and deemed her Rey, because of her tendency to lie in the shallows basking in the sun, that she had a name to go by. After years of being alone, she was certain she was the only one left — the last of a dying breed.
The tide lowered. Rey realized how long she’d spent scavenging and decided to leave the tide pool before the first wave of humans arrived in their boats.
Rey made her way over the coral reef back towards her home. Her dwelling was a the hollowed out section of a tall ship. The name had long since worn away, but Rey preferred the wooden hull to the massive cold metal wrecks found deeper in the shoals. The wood permitted her to string up or nail down the findings she kept. Each year her home held more forgotten treasures, lining the walls with evidence of her time spent in Jakku.
Not all of her findings were turned into decor. What should couldn’t repurpose into hunting weapons or other scavenging tools, she traded and what she couldn’t trade she used to build other helpful mechanisms such as the lock on her door.
From an early age, she learned how to defend herself. Being the last of her kind and merely a child forced her to unlock her own potential the basis for which was her need to survive. Her first weapon was a rudimentary staff with a sharp edge of coral fixed to the end to ward off sharks, larger fish and eels.
As she grew, so did her skills. She kept a blade on her at all times, ready to use it if necessary since wielding a staff underwater was sluggish in comparison. A knife was easier to secure and to hide, which aided her in an attack. She’d retained her staff, making enhancements as she learned more about how to move it through the weight of the water. It became one of her best hunting tools.
Rey kept herself safe when she slept by keeping her home secure. Each entry point had been closed up until only two existed —the main entrance and a secondary escape shaft. Both had locks on them, both of which she’d crafted herself. A few creatures like Plutt thought her fascination with the human rubbish was odd, while others just blamed it on her being only half fish. Rey didn’t pay their ramblings any mind. While they were on constant guard, she was able to find a peaceful night’s sleep in the net hammock she’d sewn together.
Being entranced by human things was a trait Rey had since as far back as she could remember. Perhaps it was due to the fact she was equal parts human and fish, but the reasoning behind her interest didn’t matter. Her abilities did. She had a natural talent for making things and other’s gossip had never deterred her from it.
Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any new parts to discover recently. It had been far too long since Rey had found enough to build a new contraption. Tinkering was her favorite pastime. Hunting and scavenging for trade were ways she survived but building things was what she loved. Her favorite days were when she came across a set of gears or pulleys she could repurpose. It was always an exciting challenge.
On her way back from the outpost with her supplies, Rey hummed to herself. It had been a good day and she was sure she’d find more tomorrow when she searched the opposite side of the island. Since the storm had passed, there was a good chance more humans would be about, which meant more of a chance she’d discover some objects she could build with. As she continued to her home, her humming grew into song.
Singing was a habit, one born out of a lifetime of loneliness. The noise often made her feel as though she wasn’t alone, even if she knew deep down she was. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. The words fell from her lips easily, strung together with a happy melody. She was too pleased with herself to take notice of the black eyes watching her.
It wasn’t until she came upon her home she caught a glimpse of the voyeur reflection in her ship’s window that she noticed him. Whipping around, Rey spotted the merman, a broad chested male with raven hair and a scar bisecting his face. Her song halted and her eyes widened in shock.
But before she could ask him if there were more of them, he took off.
Rey dropped her satchel by her home, immediately taking off after him. She watched as his obsidian scales glinted in the small sparks of sunlight which managed to penetrate the deeper waters. He was all muscle, moving with stealth and speed. Rey pushed herself harder, the gills on her neck burning as she raced behind him.
As they came upon the drop-off, the pale skinned watcher glanced back once at her over his shoulder, before diving over the edge and into the darkness which awaited him below. Rey paused at the top, peering down, squinting as she tried to make out his form. Her eyesight wasn’t adjusted for the deep sea. If she followed him down there, she’d be blind.
She waited, wondering if he’d show himself again.
He didn’t.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she contemplated taking the risk. After all, what were the chances of her coming across another of her kind? This was the first one she’d seen in her whole nineteen years.
Slowly, Rey dropped her upper half down, arms stretched out in front to shield herself in case any rock formations awaited her on her descent. Carefully, she sunk lower and lower until only the faintest of light could reach the depths. It was colder down here and she shivered, her skin and scales rippling from the effects of the chill.
“Hello?” She called out, scanning the darkness for any signs of movement.
There was no answer.
Moving in the direction she’d seen him go, Rey reached out her hands. All she could feel was the cold water as she pushed her palms back and forth in her fruitless search. There was almost no light left now, her body sinking down hundreds of meters away from the surface. She swallowed against her nerves, her teeth nearly chattering from the chill.
Then something slithered past the end of her tail.
Rey jerked upwards, instantly returning to the drop-off’s edge. Lying on her belly in the soft sand, she tried to determine what it was that had come into contact with her, but nothing followed her. She knew it was probably just a fish, but not being able to confirm with her own eyes made her have her doubts.
Regardless, the black-finned merman didn’t reappear. Rey’s face fell as she gazed into the shadowy depths below, a strange emptiness filled her, colder than the deep sea. It wasn’t until she discovered she wasn’t the last of her kind that she felt alone. The ugly feeling twisted inside of her, carving out a void in her otherwise content existence.
She gave one last longing look into the darkness before she returned to her home. Confused and disheartened, Rey went inside, taking care to lock up behind herself. She didn’t know what to make of the newcomer. Were there more like him in the deep sea? Was that why she’d never seen another of her — their kind? Was she the only one who lived near the surface?
Before lying in her hammock, Rey peered out her windows both relieved and disappointed to find no sight of her unnamed visitor.
As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts were filled with alabaster skin and raven hair.