Chapter Text
The seafloor was quiet. That in itself wasn’t a surprise. The seafloor was always quiet, and that was the problem.
Crona would certainly be acting spoiled if they admitted it, but they were bored. The den was big, nestled carefully in a cave; any mer would be jealous of having so much space to live. They were more fortunate than most, they reminded themself again and again and again, to be able to live here. The natural resources were plentiful, and they never went hungry. There was plenty to do– prepare ingredients or supplies, weave swaths of fabric from kelp thread, etch a design into some looseleaf, read accounts of adventure bound carefully by hands of mer they’d never met– but even that sounded limiting.
It would be an understatement to say they’d swam the perimeter of the cave a thousand times, exploring every nook and cranny. And of course the only place they weren’t allowed looked most enticing right now.
They stated out of the entrance of the den, as if willing it to come to them instead. It didn’t.
“Ragnarok,” they spoke up, glancing down to the lamprey stuck tight onto their patterned pink tail. “What do you think I should do?”
Of course, he didn’t respond, because he couldn’t talk. They fell backwards into the soft padding that covered the bottom of the den. It looked like the answer was nothing.
That was fine. They were used to doing nothing. They just had to sit there. It was easy. The restless energy in their body drained, and they lay alone, waiting for the hours to pass. This was okay, they thought. It was normal to drift away from oneself like this. To remain in disuse like a toy until their owner picked them up again.
Aren’t you grateful? Crona’s mind asked.
They unfocused their eyes. Mentally, they could picture themself laying here, like they were simply a floating piece of debris in space looking down. Strands of pink hair obscured their vision, and they didn’t, at the same time. If they stopped thinking, the hours would go by faster, wouldn’t they?
Your mother does everything for you, how do you feel about that?
Distantly, they could feel the wound in their tail, exploited by a parasite their own mother had created. It didn’t hurt the way it should. It felt oddly numb.
She said it’s for your own good, do you think it is?
They tried to move their hand. It was heavy. That was odd. But it wasn’t, at the same time. They’d been in this state so much it was like a second skin. It always felt like this. This sluggish, heavy feeling, like they were trying to swim through sand.
Do you not know this isn’t right, or are you just pretending not to know?
It was odd, this state of not-quite-sleep and not-quite wake. Their body wouldn’t sleep any more than it already had; fourteen hours was more than enough, and it still left them exhausted afterwards.
Wasn’t she around more when you were a fry?
If only they could shut their brain off entirely. But this would have to do.
Why won’t you answer me?
“Crona?”
Ah. That was her. Had it already been three hours? They couldn’t remember anything that had happened between then and now. They should get up. Go greet her. But everything felt heavy, and moving was a chore.
“Crona,” Medusa repeated, a little louder.
Not greeting her would be worse than getting up. If she’d brought anything back, she’d deny it for their selfishness. So, still feeling like they were made of metal, they flipped over and pushed themself forward, low to the ground, like a true eel. Once they got to her, they pushed themself slightly up, enough to at least be able to look at her.
“There you are,” she said sweetly, though she’d surely been able to see them the whole time. “My newest clientele bartered something excellent. They came quite a ways, and can you believe, they had some honest to goodness seal meat. I’m sure you’re tired of snapper by now; I sure am.”
They faked a smile– it was so hard to get back into feeling things after disconnecting like that. But Medusa didn’t seem to care, chirping cheerfully. Good. They were doing a good job.
“Right,” she continued, unbundling the woven cloth around the package. The scent of something strange wafted into the water, and their nose wrinkled. It was enough of a shock to bring them back into themself for the moment, snapping back to full consciousness.
“What is that?” Crona asked, slitting their eyes against it.
“You really should learn to listen better, Crona,” their mother chided, holding a piece out to them on sharp claws. “It’s seal. Go on, eat a bit. We should finish the meat while it’s good. I’ll think of how to use the fat and skin.”
Use everything you have. It was a key lesson in the ocean. Even a single sharp fish bone from dinner wasted nearly constituted a beating. If not for sharpening and strengthening a mer’s teeth, it could be altered for tools, crushed into a paste, or a countless number of other uses. They weren’t like humans, who created and wasted everything.
Which was why it was important to be grateful. To suck up every little scrap of their mother’s affection, to finish every meal, to never complain. That was what mattered. Not any little voice wondering in their mind if this was all life was.
They took the meat, slowly chewing. It was tough and chewy, a far departure from anything they’d had before. It was unfamiliar, and they really, really didn’t like unfamiliar things. They tried to act like they enjoyed it– honestly, they did try! But apparently, the distaste showed on their face or the involuntary shudder, because their mother’s face dropped.
“Crona, this is a delicacy. You can at least act like I’m not trying to poison you,” she snapped, and they quietly mourned the amicable mood that was lost.
“It tastes strange,” they replied halfheartedly. “I don’t know how to deal with it. You can eat it, I’ll just have fish.” Sure, fish was boring, but it was safe, not like whatever this was, with its awful texture. Maybe that was rude or ungrateful, but they’d rather drop dead than eat another bite of this. Besides, if it really was a delicacy, Medusa should be glad to have it all!
She didn’t seem to share that outlook, because her face dropped into something annoyed. “What have I told you about being spoiled?”
Ah, they didn’t like that tone at all. Pinning their ear and wing fins tight to themself, they replied in a small voice, hoping to somehow dodge her wrath, “not to be?”
“Then why,” Medusa asked coldly, “are you denying food? Would you rather starve?”
The answer was yes, but they probably shouldn’t say that.
“No,” they mumbled.
“Go ahead, then.” She passed another chunk of meat to them.
They really, really, really didn’t want to eat it. Why did people like this stuff? It seemed like a lot of effort to go to to carry a bit of meat all the way from near land, anyway. Granted, a price like that was often what sea witches like Medusa demanded for using their magic to help others, but still. Why couldn’t she eat it by herself, if she wanted it so much?
It seemed their hesitation had set her off, because she raised her wing fins halfway, a sure sign of agitation. “I’m trying to provide for you! I thought I’d raised you better than to disrespect that, I honestly did! Every single thing I do, I do for you, and you’re asking for more!”
If she was mad about having to catch something else, they’d gladly take the chance to be allowed outside. It had been almost a week since they were allowed outside the den, and longer since they’d properly stretched their tail with a hunt. “I can catch it by myself-” they started.
She shut them down near-immediately. “Absolutely not. I’d have to supervise you closely, and it would be faster to just catch it on my own. You’re not exactly the most talented hunter on this side of the sea.”
I’d be a better hunter if I was allowed out more, they didn’t say. What Medusa ruled went. And she’d ruled that they were incapable, so they’d be kept inside. Safe from the world. Safe, and so terribly bored. It wasn’t fair to resent her for that, they knew that much; the ocean was cruel, and other mer more so. Being a powerful sea witch, she didn’t want anyone threatening her child to gain ransom from her. Which meant that Crona stayed inside, delicate and pretty, like a fish in a small tank for the amusement of humans.
“I’m sorry,” they told her instead. Maybe if they placated her, she’d calm down and catch them something safe to eat.
“No, you’re not,” she growled back quietly, clearly annoyed. Appetite seemingly ruined, she folded the cloth over the so-called delicacy again and stocked it between the oysters and urchins, shooing away the tiny feeder fish that were drawn to the debris the meat had clouded the water with. “Clearly, you’ve decided you don’t value food. I’m sure you won’t mind a night without it.”
There was no arguing when she got like this. Really, there was no arguing ever. But still, it hurt, seeing her turn her back to them in lieu of the great unknown. “I’m taking a swim. You’re to stay inside.”
I’m always to stay inside, they thought miserably, made even more upset that they were so frustrated with her. She really was trying to help, they knew that. Apparently, their traitorous little brain didn’t, though, because they were still upset. Upset and hungry.
She’d gone by now. How long had they been in their own head? Was it that easy to lose themself now, that they hadn’t even noticed the time tick by? That probably had bad implications, but they didn’t want to linger on it. Uncomfortable things were best left pushed down.
They felt a gentle nip at their tail, a little to the left of where Ragnarok was latched on, and they twisted to see a little cleaner fish nipping at a bit of debris on their tail. It was too small to be anything of substance, but maybe it would sate their hunger slightly. After all, Medusa’s problem had been that they would have to rely on her for food, right? She’d said nothing about catching a fish inside the den.
Crona’s eyes slitted, their second set of transparent eyelids opening so they could take in light better. This was what they were made for; mer weren’t the apex predator of the ocean to be soft and sweet, after all.
Stay still. Wait for it to try and clean your tail again. Don’t feel bad that it’s just doing its job. It’s kill or be killed down here. It should know that.
With a soft growl from the back of their throat, they lunged forward, but the movement of their tail alerted the fish, who had already darted away by the time their clawed hands closed around it. They looked around, eventually pinpointing it near the cave entrance. They made another lunge for it, but it cleverly avoided their claws again, darting to freedom just outside where they were allowed to go.
“That’s not fair!” They told it. It didn’t seem to care, flitting about just outside. Like it was taunting them. Oh, this was personal now.
Surely, Medusa wouldn’t be mad if they went a little beyond the cave entrance. The reason she kept them inside was to keep them safe, but no one would dare to go this far into the territory. They planned their next move carefully, and their fingertips just clawed the fish’s tail before it had swam away.
They were so close. And they were already outside, so if Medusa was going to get mad, she already would. They didn’t have time to think about it, because the cleaner fish was getting away. They gave chase. Surely, since they were so large and fast, they catch up easily, right? Or, at least, that’s what they thought, until their gills were fighting for water within a minute.
Was it supposed to be so tiring to swim like this? Medusa seemed to do it with ease. She patrolled the entire territory multiple times a day, every single day. They were barely outside the cave and they still felt exhausted. Kind of dizzy, too.
But the fish was right there, and they weren’t going to risk all of this just to let it get away. And tantilizingly, it remained just out of reach, mocking them with its proximity. Oh, eating this fish would be the most satisfying meal of their life. And it would prove to their mother that they weren’t a bad hunter!
They stretched just a little further, and finally, finally pierced their claws into the little cleaner fish. The smell of blood was satisfying, and, though they were panting harder than they should have. Now they understood why predators didn’t bother to kill cleaner fish. It was far too much energy to catch a single puny fish. They probably could have gotten something better to eat if they’d just decided to go out and hunt straight out, and they’d still be breaking the same amount of rules.
Crona opened their mouth to eat their prey in a single bite, but they were jolted from that task by a heavy impact on their back. It sent them tumbling to the rocky seafloor, a layer of sediment stirring up and clouding the water. Their gills spasmed at the offensive cloud, leaving them coughing. The weight pressed down on their back, and they gasped, this time in pain. Quickly covering their eyes with their vertical set of clear eyelids to protect the sand, they twisted to look at their assailant.
His hair was spiky, a brown-blonde color that brought out the cold blue fury of his eyes. His wing-fins were fanned out fully, covered in a million sharp spines along the edges. When he spoke, they noticed his teeth were even sharper than the average mer.
“You’re pretty fucking bold, catching a fish in my territory, huh?”
Had they crossed over the border? They must have. Which meant there was no excuse for this transgression.
There were few rules undersea. Not like the humans had. If a mer wanted to do whatever they wanted, they could, within reason. Sure, some actions were looked down upon– hurting mer fries was an act that would have many mer united against the perpetrator, for instance– but there was no real consensus. Territory laws, however, were one of the few established systems all wild mer had.
They remembered their mother explaining as she brushed her claws through Crona’s hair. “It’s very important that you never cross into another mer’s territory. They may forgive you now, since you’re small, but once you grow bigger, they won’t.”
“But mer come into our territory all the time, don’t they?”
“Not close to the seafloor. Swimming a fair distance above is fine, since they’re just passing through. If someone wants to trade something, they’ll tell me by lingering above but within sight of the seafloor, usually with whatever goods in hand. They’re not allowed to catch fish, though, since whatever fish are directly within our borders belong to us.”
And here they were, over the border line, with an unlawfully-caught fish in their hands. The only option was to grovel and hope he’d forgive, since they were still technically a fry. “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice-”
“Like hell you didn’t!” Who was he? Who had Medusa said their neighbors were? Free, to the east, a spiny dogfish who kept to himself usually. Eruka, to the west, a frogfish who could be a little spiteful, but this clearly wasn’t her. After all, this was clearly a male mer, judging by the way he spoke. That ruled out Mizune, too, leaving only Giriko.
That must be this mer, the one bearing down on their back with sharp claws inches from the nape of their neck.
They pressed their wing fins close, trying to look small and nonthreatening. They chirped, a pathetic sound that they hoped conveyed the idea of I’m small, I’m not a threat, don’t hurt me, I’m sorry.
In return, little pinpricks of pain blossomed where the scaled ends of his fingers dug into their flesh. The smell of blood in the water picked up, but now, it only made their stomach roil. “I’m sorry! You can have it, I’ll leave, I swear-”
His claws raked across their cheeks with such force that they rolled to the side with the momentum of the swing. It was deep enough that they were afraid he’d cut right through the muscle to the inside of their mouth. They tried to scramble back, but Giriko pinned them down again, this time on the stomach. His face got close to theirs as he snarled out, “you think you can pay me back with that little thing? What, you think I’m interested in something that small?”
“You were mad because I caught it, I just thought-” Crona was cut off by their own gasp of pain as he pressed his hand down. He wasn’t even using his claws, but the pressure hurt, enough to make them whine again.
“It’s been a long time since someone’s been this gutsy. It’s almost a shame. But you know what they say about fish. When one enters your territory, they’re yours.” Giriko flashed a sharp, cruel smile at them, and, though they tried in vain to escape, his hold was tight.
Slowly, too slowly, his claws raked over their gills. They chirped for help, for their mother, for anyone, but they knew none would come. It was the law of the food chain. Eat or be eaten. And they’d just presented this mer a fresh meal.
He pulled away just slightly, still keeping them pinned. He inspected their tail like a cut of fresh meat– which, they thought with a hint of terror, it probably would be soon– and laughed. “An eel, too. I’ll have food for months, if I can keep the fish away. What do you think, which half of you should I eat first?”
Neither didn’t seem like a feasible answer here.
He continued, as if oblivious to the fact that they’d just given a distress chirp in response. “Probably the human half. The way you look pisses me off, and a good chunk of that tail’s rotten from that parasite. Ah, well, you can’t have it all.” As he spoke, he lifted the garment covering their torso just slightly, enough to reveal where abdomen met tail, and dragged his claws across the fragile skin of the divide.
Their screams didn’t dissuade him, nor their thrashing. Nothing did. It hurt. It hurt more than they thought anything could hurt, but they were too weak to push him off. Red tinted the water– their own blood, their life force.
Fleeing wasn’t an option, so they turned to the only other one they had. They slashed at him back, catching him in the nose. He let up just enough for them to slip away for a moment, but he was on top of them again in another second, claws aiming right for their eye. They closed it just in time, but the pain was no less profound.
They were bleeding all over, chest heaving and gill damaged. Pleading hadn’t worked. Fleeing hadn’t worked. Fighting hadn’t worked. They were going to die, weren’t they? Right here and now. No, with that look in his eye, he would make it hurt.
“Please.” Their voice cracked, one last attempt to bargain for their life. “My mother- she’s waiting for me, she doesn’t know I’m here-”
“Aw, do you have a family?” Giriko taunted, flashing his sharp teeth in a scowl. “Well, she should have taught you better.”
Medusa hadn’t wanted to let Crona go out because she hadn’t wanted anyone to take them hostage, right? Which meant that, maybe, if he thought he could get more from them as a hostage, he would keep them alive. Medusa would be furious, but they wanted so desperately to flee to the very corner of their den now and nestle into the rock to hide. It hurt badly, and they just wanted to go home.
“She- she could barter,” they blurted. “She’s a witch, she-”
As if he’d been scratched again, he pulled away, edging away. He was acting like they were venomous now, looking almost afraid. “You’re not talking about Medusa.”
They nodded halfheartedly, taking the moment to create their own space. If he tried to lunge now, they could get away.
“Fuck. She had a fry the whole time?” He put a hand over his mouth, glaring distastefully at the ground, a little pale in the gills. “Damn it. God damn it. I’m dead meat if I kill her kid.”
They crept a bit further, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but he locked eyes with them, causing them to freeze.
“Get out of here,” he snapped, baring his teeth. “I’m not digging my own grave here. Go snivelling back to your mommy. Maybe she’ll teach you about territory law while you’re at it.”
Crona didn’t need to be told twice. They looked around for where they’d come from, but the directions had been muddled in the fight, and they were in too much pain to focus too hard on it. The only safe direction was up, wasn’t it? If they entered another mer’s territory, it wouldn’t be an immediate attack, and they might be able to ask for directions, if they didn’t find her themself.
Each swish of their tail through the water was a jagged blade through their torso, too painful to bear. They could feel themself drifting away, the way they did when they were left alone too long. They didn’t have the strength to fight it.
Up. That was the only direction that mattered. They just… needed to go up. It was so bright up there. Brighter than they’d ever seen, leaving the water pink instead of red.
There was a shadow above them now, blocking that light. Huh. How odd. Maybe it was time to go to sleep. That certainly sounded good right now.
Something tangled around them, something that brought gravity to a halt, leaving them supported. It was nice. Maybe, just for a moment, they could let their eyes close.
Pain. That was what brought Crona back to consciousness. A light press on the claw marks under their eye, lighting the injury on fire. They reacted without thinking, pushing whatever or whoever had touched them away at the same time they opened both sets of eyelids. Immediately, they regretted that second decision. It was so bright, burning their sensitive eyes and adding to the disorientation that was already making it hard to exist.
The water felt weird, entirely too weightless in a way that was completely overstimulating to breathe in. Combined with the light, it made them want to go back to the ever-reliable unknown of sleep, but their instincts were going haywire, screaming, danger, danger, danger.
They shook their head to try to remove the urchin spines of confusion from their brain and opened their eyes again, more cautiously this time. In front of them were two unfamiliar mer, with tails they’d never seen before. Probably arctic or freshwater, then. Maybe that was why the water was so strange. But… no, not quite. It wasn’t as salty as they were used to, likely brackish.
Focus, Crona. Two unfamiliar mer. Both smaller than them. The female or third-gender mer was the one who had touched their face, because she was closer, and, on her shoulder, the barest hints of claw marks sluggishly bled. They’d grazed her, then.
Their mind was working overtime, noting every little thing in this new environment. Everything was unfamiliar– the seafloor was slightly rocky, but far too flat, and they were enclosed by blue walls that resembled the ocean, but far too small. It was all wrong. They wanted to go home. Where even was home?
“You’re awake,” the female– female for sure, because of the way she intonated her chirps– mer said. They’d never heard an accent like hers before.
All of this was terrifying. They were injured, vulnerable, and in another mer’s territory. They had no idea where home was, nor how to get there. The one thing they held over these two was power. Though the presumably male one had some scars, they looked old, and the female one was completely unblemished. Unlike Giriko, neither of them seemed to have recent battle experience. Not that Crona knew how to fight very well, either, but they’d managed to land a scratch on their only opponent, and most battles were more about intimidation than actual skill, as far as Medusa had told them.
So, for the first time properly in their life, they hissed fully extended their wing fins, hoping those two would get the message of, I’m big, I’m scary, don’t mess with me.
The male mer backed away just slightly, but the female one only blinked, seeming unthreatened, and twitched hers out just slightly, as if to say, I don’t even need to be big to threaten you in response.
But they had nowhere to flee. They had to fight. So they hissed again, a low growl building in their throat.
I’ll hurt you, they tried to say without saying. Get any closer, and I’ll hurt you.
The female mer opened her mouth to speak, but, instead of any understandable chirps or whistles, she let out a garbled string of noises that carried horribly in the water. It wasn’t anything they’d ever heard before.
In response, the male mer spoke those same strange syllables, and the female’s mouth opened. A little louder, and a little redder, she yelped back at him. She was getting worked up. This was dangerous.
Keep threatening. If it comes to it, I’ll fight.
One back-and-forth in that same odd tongue later, and both their gazes focused on Crona.
“Hi,” she chirped, oddly friendly. She didn’t seem threatened in the slightest. “You’re safe. Some humans found you injured and brought you to the-” Her face scrunched oddly, and she turned to her companion and asked something in that other language.
“A place of healing,” he finished for her. Definitely he, now that he had spoken.
“Humans?” Their heart sank. No. No, no, no. They’d heard stories of humans’ cruelty, whisking mer away from home and forcing them into captivity for entertainment. It was all starting to make sense. The flatness, the wrongness– it was all made by humans. The humans had found them too close to the surface, and now they were nothing but a pet. Belatedly, they looked down at their injured gills, only to find that they were stitched up like their skin was merely cloth, and, on their face, something odd and scratchy was placed over their cheek.
They’d been handled by humans. They’d been broken and vulnerable and handled by a species that dared to look like them while holding no respect for the ocean’s precious few resources. And now, no matter what they did, that couldn’t be undone.
What had the humans done to them? What hadn’t they had a say over while they were asleep?
“It’s not as bad as you think-” the male started, pressing his wing fins close. He was finally intimidated, but at what cost.
They finally moved, flitting about the territory that they now realized was a cage. “No- no, no, no, no! I have to get back, I have to see her- let me go, let me go!”
“Please, stay still!” The female mer shouted. “You’ll break your sewing!”
The sewing. If this mer didn’t want them to break it, it must be important. Maybe that was a sign of ownership. With shaking claws, they threaded their fingers underneath a few of the thin strings binding the skin together and pulled. At once, red filled the water, drawing back memories of the fight, of the pain and Giriko and their mother– oh, their mother, they should have listened to her. Was this some sort of karmic punishment for disobeying her?
The world was loud. So, so loud. Over the water, someone– a human, it had to be, a filthy human who wanted more pets, wanted to torment them for the fun of it, wanted them to suffer– shouted something, and a strange scent filled the water. They didn’t have time to close their gills before it became overpowering, muddling their mind once more.
Crona didn’t have the strength to fight the darkness that washed over them.