Chapter Text
Out beyond the echoing wrath of deep seawater, there come legends of the unknown. Tales that often don’t bother to make rhyme or reason of our realm as we know it. Things that have no respect for a mortal being's fragile sense of understanding. Not at all. Because the ocean is not only a place, but a collection of thoughts, fears, and fascination that are older than time itself.
The birthplace of all that encompasses the human imagination and beyond. A vast mystery that cloaks itself in shades of indigo and gray on days where rolling storms reflect far above the water’s edge. With waves that have the ability to swallow entire ships whole, consuming life and dragging it into the abyss without a second thought.
Cruel and unmistakable. Ever changing, always evolving, yet never relenting. That is the way of the sea.
The ocean is well known for hiding countless secrets. Dark secrets. Nightmares that lurk beneath the surface of the waves, waiting for a chance to reveal themselves at only the right moment. Horrible creatures that can strike terror into even the most stone-faced sailor’s heart.
Creatures that claw and tear into flesh. Creatures that trick and steal. Creatures that take a sickening delight in the fear they cause.
Awful monstrosities most would never dream of. The worst of them all never to be seen in the light of day or beheld by any eye, left to dwell in the most horrific parts of the human mind.
Among these wretched and awful creatures is the siren. A deadly half-human and half-fish monster that lures men at sea to their untimely gruesome deaths. To be eaten alive and left without a trace. They sing heavenly hypnotic songs. Their vocal chords evolved far beyond the ability of any human. Giving one siren the ability to sound like an entire choir of singers, layering beautiful harmonies and melodies at once.
As legend would have it, no human being has ever encountered a siren and lived to tell of it. Once it has set its wicked heart on having you for a meal there is no escape. There is no power in resisting their beautiful voices and enchanting songs. There is no way to avoid following them until it is already too late. When they’ve already begun to sink their razor sharp teeth into you. Dagger-like claws ripping apart the skin from your bones as you fade into nothing but an inky black death.
…
Among these sirens is Viktor, who shares most of the same characteristics as the others of his kind. He is just as ferocious and cunning as any of them. With the same ravaging hunger for human flesh and alluring voice to deceive them with.
The biggest difference between Viktor and the other sirens was that he had been born with a weak fin and a bent spine. Putting more restrictions on the wide range of mobility that he was supposed to have. Causing him to suffer from frequent pain that led swimming and hunting to be much more strenuous for him.
His way of life did not come as simply to him as it did for others of his kind. Staying alive in his condition was not free of its challenges. It was not easy to survive with circumstances like that in the ocean, certainly not when you were supposed to be one of its fiercest predators.
Other sirens traverse the sea from far and wide. They travel for extremely long distances throughout the duration of their lives. Sometimes crossing the lengths of entire oceans, from the icy waters up north to the tropical waves down south.
They hunt in groups. A single school of sirens could easily take down an entire ship full of men all at once. Creating more food for all of them. And a healthy siren diet consists of large portions of mostly human meat and occasionally a variety of fish on days where they skipped large meals.
Due to his circumstances, Viktor lives his life very differently. He does not participate in anything of this sort. He lives alone. Hunts alone. Eats alone.
Because of his weaknesses he was never welcomed into a hunting group of his own. He stayed far away from the larger packs of sirens, as they tended to be territorial and aggressive, especially to a small outsider like himself. They could often be quite ruthless as well. There were times where he had gotten chased and even attacked by those stronger and faster than him. Leaving him with more than enough physical and mental scars to deal with on top of the isolation that was already not ideal for his species.
So Viktor had to grow accustomed to the idea of doing everything by himself. It became an undeniable truth of his life. Something he learned very early on. Just another affliction he had to experience every day. Like the deep aching in his back and fin. Ever present and consistent. As much a part of him as the very matter that made up his being.
He did not fear loneliness though. Nor did he contemplate it much. He could not. Not if he wanted to survive.
Such thoughts would drive you to madness, he knew it well enough. It was dangerous to question your own existence like that. To fill your mind with such nonsense of ‘what if’ and ‘if only’.
He lived closer to the surface of the ocean where the sunlight was still visible beneath rippling waves. Stayed nearer to the shoreline residing in caves along the edges of cliff-sides and only eating the occasional lonesome fisherman just foolish enough to enter his territory.
His hunting grounds were small, but it worked well enough when swimming was sometimes too difficult for him. He did not have the same range of motion as the other sirens and so his ability to hunt was limited. Catching humans did not come without taking a harder toll on his body. Taking the time to hunt such large prey used up a lot of his energy and strength. So Viktor’s diet often consisted of smaller fish that he caught throughout the day. He only ate human a few times a month, sometimes even less.
It was not a very full or complete siren diet. While it kept him alive, he couldn’t deny that it left him more malnourished and thin than most. Not aiding in his brutal cycle of chronic pain and fatigue.
He spent most of his days residing in his favorite cave below the cliffside. A mostly dark place, that sometimes caught just enough light from the surface to cast that soft glittering haze into his eyes in the earlier parts of morning. He passed the time by Sleeping in a comfy bed of plush sea moss, gnawing on fish bones, and staying frustrated out of his mind. Maybe his quaint little isolated life wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t so easily bored.
Viktor always hoped and wished for more. A goal, a dream, something that would make him finally feel complete.
It was another thing that made him undoubtedly different. Sirens didn’t have hopes and dreams, they had instinct and drive. They learned to be content just existing as a force of nature. But that wasn’t enough for Viktor, there was a part of him deep within his chest that longed for something more.
…
Earlier on in his life Viktor began to observe humans, not only as a means of luring them out to sea, but as a way to simply learn about them. Study them for his own enjoyment and enrichment. To alleviate some of his boredom. Even on days where he could not hunt, he still watched them, learned from them, and listened to them.
He hated to admit it, but humanity fascinated him. Though he told himself that it wasn’t because he was particularly fond of humans, but more so because he was repulsed by them. Their confusing ways intrigued him like a puzzle to solve. He became transfixed on trying to understand them even if he knew deep down that it was a completely pointless venture.
Humans had a plethora of strange systems set in place. Many of which were nonsensical and contradictory.
They were heavily emotional, even though they prided themselves on being the most logical species. They enjoyed playing god, sometimes not even in their own lives but in the lives of others. They were especially cruel to each other and shockingly cruel to the people they claimed to love. The more he learned about them, the more he grew perplexed.
They had their own set of very strict ways about their sexes too.
The first time Viktor had ever seen a woman, confusion flooded his mind. There were so many rules and regulations regarding presentation and the differences between male and female. Women were apparently expected to dress differently and behave differently too. They had created their own harsh lines between gender that most of them didn’t even think of crossing. Like exploring wasn’t a possibility at all.
He didn’t feel like he and the women he saw out on boardwalks were parallel to each other, not at all. He could not ever imagine himself in their shoes. It left him feeling uneasy, as if he himself did not quite fit into his own skin properly.
When just observing humanity wasn’t enough to satiate his interest. He began to collect things from them. Most of the belongings he took were just trash they threw over the sides of their boats, pieces of scrap metal and rope that had been frayed at the sides with age. Others were rarer finds. Shiny trinkets. Lockets and jewelry that had been lost at sea. Things that sparkled in the sun at just the right angle. He enjoyed those a lot. But his favorites were always what he took from fishermen’s boats.
What he claimed as trophies from his previous kills.
These were the things that gave him the most insight into a fisherman’s day to day life. Deeply personal items. Photographs of wives and children they kept with them. Small things that reminded them of home. It made his heart ache in a way that was completely foreign to him. A heavy sensation that curled around his lungs. Guilt.
It was after one of these fresh kills that he saw a book for the first time. A stack of crisp white paper bound together by glue and leather, with printed words lining every page. It was by far the most fascinating thing he ever laid eyes on. So much information about so many things, directly handed to him. He held the book in his claws with so much excitement; he needed more as soon as possible.
After months of collecting as many of these works as he could, he had successfully begun to teach himself how to read. It was difficult because paper, as he learned it to be, began to fall apart in water rather fast. Meaning he could only hold onto books for a short amount of time before they were completely ruined and useless.
But how he cherished the short amount of time he spent with them. He was obsessed with how they could tell him so much about anything and everything. Arts, sciences, history, fantasies. Some held beautiful stories about knights and princesses, some touched on real world philosophies, others were personal collections, journals and logbooks scrawled in messy black ink. It was endless. It was everything. He quickly decided he wanted to read every book there was in the world.
His favorite story was about a creature like himself. A less blood thirsty half-human and half-fish entity that fell in love with a human prince. It was as amusing as it was ridiculous. Falling in love with a human prince felt somewhat convoluted when he would make a perfectly fine snack instead. But nevertheless, he had been swept away by the idea of this silly little fantasy. He thought of the story often with a hopefulness he did not know he possessed.
Watching humans and collecting their things became an awful, mindless habit that Viktor had developed. The other sirens would surely be disgusted by his actions. Disgusted by his undeniable growing affection for humanity.
It scared him, taking an obsessive interest like this. He was still a monster. That could not be helped or changed. He so badly wanted to let go of his obsessions and leave humanity as it was. But he could not. As much as it pained him to admit it, he grew softer for them every day. He could not stop killing, for it was his nature. Only now he thought about the consequences of his kills more often. And the feelings his violence left him with him.
These men he ate had families and friends. They enjoyed books like Viktor did. They probably smiled and laughed. Danced and cried. He often wondered how many of the complexities of humanity they experienced before they died. What they missed out on when they were taken too early.
…
There came an evening deep in summer's heat, where Viktor watched two men on the beach. He stared on, hidden in the rolling sea under the darkness of night. They stood close together, speaking to each other so quietly that he could not hear what they were saying. Viktor felt hotter and hotter as things progressed. The way they looked into each other's eyes, touches fleeting between them, soft yet rough. They held each other so close, getting closer and closer until they were tangled together on top of the sand.
He watched as they licked at each other's mouths. Kissing each other with a ferocity he’d never seen before. The exchange made him uneasy, and somehow also excited. Like he wanted to see so much more, even at the risk of growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
They undressed each other. Legs intertwining until they were one. Gasping and panting into each other. Whimpering through completion. He wanted to be disgusted, but when he reached for the feeling it was not there. He had found that a terrible sense of yearning had replaced it. He should have lost interest, turned and swam away, but he could not bring himself to leave. He could not bring himself to look away.
He reached the conclusion that humans must have mating rituals of their own, completely different from that of a siren. Where intercourse must have had a purpose outside of just producing offspring. Something done for leisure. He thought about the two men he saw that night. The way they touched each other with pleasure and purpose when in reality there was no purpose outside of just being together because being together was enough. Showing affection to someone who loved you in the most tender, yet aggressive way was enough.
Sirens were not capable of love nor being loved. At least from what he had assumed. They were not capable of feeling much else outside of the natural instinct to survive. He had never even known of romance before, it was a concept so completely foreign to him that learning about it shouldn’t have changed him in any way.
But it did change him. It stirred something within him so different than anything he had ever felt before. He felt a desperate sense of need that he’d never quite experienced until that moment. Like he wanted to be one of the men on that beach. To be a man intertwined with another man, until nothing else mattered, until the world around them ceased to exist.
Sirens had mating cycles that were less romantic and flowery than that of humans. Less complicated, but not nearly as glamorous. Their cycles came every handful of years. Sometimes more or less depending on the health of the siren who carried the eggs.
Breeding with other sirens proved too difficult for most, because the males usually lingered near the ocean floor. Viktor especially found it hard to venture down there where the pressure was too much on his fins. Putting him in more pain than necessary or desirable.
But he wasn’t the only siren of his kind who didn’t feel like making the journey below and going through that trouble. Most sirens mated with humans before killing them to prevent the extra trip to the ocean’s depths. Viktor had done it a handful of times before. But there was no gratification in that kind of sex though, just instinct. Simple and mindless like breathing.
It was just like any other natural part of his life. He would carry the eggs for a few months before laying them somewhere safe, usually somewhere where the seaweed grew thick and tall, before moving on. Never to see them again.
Sirens didn’t raise their children like humans did. Another difference he had noticed. Humans appeared to keep their children with them seemingly throughout the duration of their youth. Because they’re babies needed to be taught everything about the world and they needed to be there right beside them at all times. This was nothing like parenthood for a siren.
Siren parenthood started and ended in the womb. Their eggs were left to hatch on their own and then fend for themselves.
It was a harsh upbringing and many of them did not survive past their infancy. Viktor had long made peace with the truth that most of his young probably didn’t live very long lives. He was small and underfed, meaning the eggs weren’t laid with the proper amount of nutrients to hold out long enough to even hatch at all in the first place.
It did not sadden him. He felt mostly apathetic towards the idea of breeding and producing offspring. There was no pride or shame there at all. Just emptiness. He took less of an interest in successfully repopulating. It did not hurt him or make him feel less than. He did not dwell on it often enough for that.
He could tell that his cycle was arriving soon now, though he tried not to linger in his thoughts of it. He was going to pretend it wasn’t happening as long as he could get away with it. After all, ignoring his own needs was already second nature to him. He would ignore his own body’s suffering just to pretend there was some semblance of normalcy in his life. Like it was the one thing he could control. Something he did often with the many aching sensations he felt from day to day. That’s all it was. More discomfort added where he would barely notice.
His pain was of course not ideal but he could never imagine a life without it. It had become part of his routine. Part of simply existing as himself. It was complicated, but even when he faced those complications he learned to adapt. He was clever and he knew that. Just quick-witted enough for survival in the ruthless ocean. Even with disadvantages, he stayed afloat.
There were days when he wondered if any humans hurt like he did. If any of them had to adapt to their bodies' particular needs.
Humans seemed to have invented so much, surely they had remedies to ease pain and things that could aid in one’s mobility. He assumed things like that had to exist in some capacity. If humans were such skilled inventors, they had to invent things that helped each other.
An indescribable gloom filled his heart. Would he have been fated to suffer as he did if he’d been born a human instead of a siren?
He curled up onto his bed of sea moss and thought endlessly about the possibilities of being human. The things he would do if he was one of them.
He could try foods and drinks from all over the world. He could get his hands on some of their trinkets and invent new things, read books wherever he pleased, maybe even fall in love with a handsome man on the beach.
He wanted to taste the feeling of freedom that being human would surely bring him, even if only for a short while in his own mind.
He did not get any sleep that night. He lay awake, lost in thought for hours on end until the sun rose up above the water and woke up the sleeping world around him.
…
It was another gloomy and misty morning that day, the fog settled heavy on the water, and the clouds covered the sky with the threat of rain. Viktor rested atop a rock eating a herring that he’d caught and studying a notebook filled with equations and riddles. Numbers and words messily littered the pages. He delighted in trying to solve such things even if it felt like nonsense. It helped pass the time.
If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the small rowboat not too far off in front of him. One fisherman as it seemed to be, casting his net out to sea with one fluid motion.
Viktor suddenly became increasingly aware of his own hunger. A fire lit across his nerves, burned from his head down to his fingertips. He scratched his sleek black claws along the stone surface of the rocks, keeping his eyes in front of him locked on the fisherman. A crawling desire to kill sunk deep into his chest. A desire that he followed into the water, preparing for his hunt.
He had done this routine time and time again. He would get as close as he could, learn all the more interesting information that was available from them. Then enchant them with the same song he always sang before going in for the kill. Tearing out their throat. Eating through muscle and sinew, snapping his jaws all the way through bone down to the marrow.
Shrouded in shades of mist he moved slowly, concealing himself within the waves. Watching. Waiting. Lithe body gliding against the water as he tried his very best to pretend there was no pain that pressed down on his spine and tail. Then when he got just close enough. Enough to reach out and touch the man’s boat. He paused. Head peaked out just above the water, waterline resting atop his nose and below his sharp amber eyes.
The first time Viktor actually got a clear look at the fisherman, his heart shot straight into his throat and he thought he was going to die.
The man was tall, at least from what Viktor could tell, with deep tan skin and warm green-brown eyes. His dark hair fell in short waves in front of his forehead, framing his cheeks and eyebrows more beautifully than he had ever seen before.
He looked like a prince right out of a picture from one of his stolen books. Except this man was a little older than the young charming princes from fairytales he’d read. Wearier too. As if fear itself had nearly swallowed him whole. He wore a look of exhaustion too, like years of stress and work had carved away at him. Wearing him down past all his secrets until only the truest parts of him were left to be shown to the world.
There was a haunting sadness behind his eyes. An emptiness in his gaze that he had recognized on the faces of other men before, though never as alluring as his. This man was different. There was something Viktor connected himself to in his expression. As if every time Viktor looked into his eyes, he could see his own reflecting back at him.
Hunger crept into his stomach, it had been too long since he’d eaten human. It nagged at him, sharp and consistent.
But as he looked at the man, really looked at him. A new sensation began to rise.
Guilt.
Longing.
If he ate the fisherman now he would never look upon his beauty again. He would never feel the same addictive heat fluttering within his gut. Never see himself in those gorgeous green-brown eyes.
It was selfish of him to get attached like this. Sirens weren’t supposed to behave this way. A creature so cruel was not meant for the tenderness of human love.
Viktor knew logically that he wouldn't be able to resist him forever with lust coursing through his blood like this. Even if he hesitated now, what use would it be if the fisherman were to return a day or a week later. There was no sense in playing heartless games like this. But weakness overpowered him.
He couldn’t kill him. Not here. Not today.
Every fiber of his being told him to go. Swim as far away as possible, so as to not bring harm to the man. But he was pulled closer. Thrown into the eye of the storm, with no regard for his conflicting interests.
Viktor swam directly under the fisherman’s boat. Just to wait and listen.
He pulled the fishing net he’d cast gently into his hands, carefully observing it. He wanted to touch everything the man had touched. He wanted to crawl his way onto his boat and investigate every little thing he kept with him. But he stayed hidden against his wishes.
He could hear him messing with metal parts above him, cursing under his breath in frustration at whatever he was working on. His voice was softer than Viktor had thought it would be. He did not sound as gruff and intimidating at the other men at sea he’d encountered before, instead there was a boy-ish quality in his voice. An uncertainty to his tone that Viktor should not have been endeared by.
He so badly wished he could see what the man was tinkering with. To watch him build and create. Maybe create things alongside him if he would allow. He felt a rush of blood rise into his cheeks. A sign that he had already taken things too far. Gotten too close.
Just as soon as his mind began to wander back to sweet ideas of building things with the man, he was unexpectedly startled out of his daydreaming state by a loud sudden noise.
CLANG!
Viktor suddenly felt something splash into the ocean next to him, as he heard the man above groan with displeasure. He darted his head to the left to see what had fallen. Frantically searching around in the murky seawater before his eyes landed on something shiny and metallic, a glint of silver catching his eye.
It appeared to be some kind of gear or cog that Viktor assumed must have been of importance to the man’s project.
He jolted forward, chasing after the cog before he lost sight of it as it sank down below. He swam after it in a panic, he couldn’t lose it. Not now.
What if he never saw the man again after today? What if it would forever be the only thing he’d ever have to remember him by?
Viktor reached out his webbed hand and snatched the gear before it drifted deeper into the ocean. He clutched it snugly in the palm of his hand. Wondering how such a small thing could mean so much if it did not seem to have any use on its own.
He toyed with the idea of immediately returning it to the fisherman, just to hand it back and be over with it.
But he decided against it rather quickly, as revealing himself would be dangerous and also probably quite frightening for the human. Instead he kept the gear tucked between his hands and did not turn around as he left the boat behind him.
He swam away back to his cave to keep his new treasure somewhere safe. Hidden away somewhere between smoke pipes and silverware. Just another part of his ever growing collection of human items. Only this one little cog meant so much more to him than anything else he owned.
That night he slept to thoughts of the fisherman. Those eyes, that voice- they were the only things that entered his dreams.
He let himself be carried away by the soft tenderheartedness of his fantasies. Just for a short while. He would go back to being a fearsome predator eventually. But just for one night he allowed himself to dream.
…
To Viktor’s surprise the same pretty fisherman came back two days later. When the sky was clearer and the waters were calmer. This time he watched him from far away, feeling the warmth rise within him again. Today he was not building anything to Viktor’s disappointment. Instead, he wrote in a journal.
Viktor took note of how his nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed when he was deep in thought. It made him want to bite at his nose and lap at the skin between his brows. It was maddening. He felt dizzy from just looking at him.
They stayed like that for a couple hours. The man lost in his journal while Viktor stared intently from afar. It was a thoroughly thoughtless task, rhythmic and steady. There was a sense of peace in just existing with the man. A feeling Viktor had never felt before, not with a human, not with anyone.
After the sun dipped into the afternoon, the fisherman leaned back in his boat and nodded off to sleep. Viktor swiftly sprung into action and darted over. Finally taking the chance to investigate closer.
He pushed himself up onto the boat’s edge, peering over to finally see what had been waiting for him inside. He noticed the journal, left open with ink chaotically scrawled on the pages in front of him. Then he looked at the man, fast asleep, hat completely covering the top half of his face. How cute, Viktor thought.
He reached his arm to the journal, flipping through notes about constructing some type of machine that he had never seen or heard of before. He was very intrigued though he hardly understood. What intrigued him even more was the name written at the bottom.
Jayce Talis.
He had never bothered to learn a human’s name before. Until now he had never wanted to.
And what a fitting name it was.
Talis.
He sounded it out in his head.
A name that meant magic and good luck.
Viktor liked that a lot.
Jayce Talis the man made of magic and good luck. A man that brought happiness and prosperity wherever he went.
He smiled.
Viktor left the journal where it was and swam away before Jayce had a chance to wake. He thought that surely he would not get this lucky again. The fact that he had even a chance at getting so close to him was unbelievable enough.
He felt lighter after the encounter, like all his suffering in his life leading up to learning the man’s name had mattered a little less now. All his pain and sadness didn’t have to be for nothing anymore. For the very first time in his entire life as he could remember it, he had something to look forward to.
…
Looking forward did not even begin to describe it. The few days a week where he saw Jayce were the greatest days of his life. He cherished every second of their time spent together even if the human was not even aware of his existence.
The pattern was the same every day. Jayce would throw out his fishing net and continue tinkering with his tools and scraps or start writing in his journal. And Viktor would happily watch.
One morning Viktor got close to his fishing net while it was in the water. Tracing his claws on the rope, just enough to not cause any tears.
After observing it for a while, he realized that Jayce wasn't actually catching many fish. This made Viktor weary. If he wasn’t catching enough fish, did that mean he would eventually stop coming to this part of the ocean. Would he go somewhere else if it promised he’d have better luck there.
Viktor thought about how much it would devastate him to never see Jayce again. But Viktor, ever the clever thinker, got a very brilliant idea. He would hunt the fish himself and place them in the net.
He was perfectly skilled in hunting fish, years of relying on them as his main food source had left him with the ability to snatch up almost any fish he desired. So he would spend his days collecting fish for Jayce, and maybe snacking on one or two while he was at it. Something to keep him coming back. To keep some semblance of a promise that he would return to him. That he could continue to look at him as often as he did. And for the time it seemed to work, because he continued to see Jayce every few days as usual.
Viktor knew deep down that it was all terribly irresponsible of him. Falling in love with a human like this. With someone that would never know of his existence. But he continued to act selfishly, despite his growing sadness. He continued to love though he knew it would not go anywhere. Continued to love even though his hunger still grew more and more everyday. Leaving him feeling like there was an empty hole in his stomach. All because he was in love with the idea of being in love in a human way.
But it was not a possibility for him. It would never be.
Doomed to never experience love. Doomed to hunt, devour, and destroy. Consume that which he cared for. It was a cruel cycle. His starvation was driving him mad. Hunger only growing stronger the longer he delayed in killing the man.
Yet Viktor kept Jayce in his mind everyday. He hurt at the thought of him. But he didn’t stop himself from imagining how he would hold him in his arms. Taking him in a delightfully human way, the same way those men on the beach had taken each other. He fantasized about the taste of him on his tongue. Salt and iron. Warm and sweet. Skin in his teeth. Wetness dripping down every inch of him. He wanted it more than anything. To savor every last piece of his flesh as he watched the life pour out of his green-brown eyes. Tear him apart only to then hold him close and weep.
He wanted and wanted. Ached and ached. Everything was conflicting, if he just went ahead and killed him would it be enough to make all the pain in his heart go away? Would all of it finally be over?
He knew his mating cycle was to come upon him soon. So, he tried explaining away the confusing mix of desire and hunger he felt inside himself. He couldn’t remember being changed like this during his past cycles. The need had been there before but not the longing. But he would rather deny whatever else could be happening to him. Deny what was truly there. It was easier that way.
Jayce. His Jayce. Why did he have to make it so complicated?
He didn’t understand what it was about this one tinkering fisherman that made him yearn for something more. For a completely new life.
He was attached to a man who did not even know of his existence. Who did not know of the monster that sought to kill him. The monster that only hesitated because he enjoyed daydreaming about love that would never exist.
Was he going to be forced to live through the same cycle every day? For the rest of his existence. Eating handsome men in spite of his feelings. Occasionally mating with a few of them, just for them to meet the same pointless gruesome fate. For what? Offspring that could not even survive in the ocean's cruel conditions. Living a meaningless violent life. No aspirations, no dreams, no hopes. Hunger and insanity. Over and over. Never ending. Senseless brutality again and again.
There was no hope for him. No love story, no light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing to justify the pain he existed through all his life.
If he hadn’t been given life in his body. If he had been human instead of a siren. He could truly have the opportunity to live as he wanted to. Do something more than be a monster.
He thought of the stories he read about magic. The stories that ended in sea creatures like him turning human. Where if he hoped and prayed hard enough the stars above would grant him legs instead of fins and rid him of his violent hunger for human flesh. Only then could he find a way to get what he wanted.
But those stories were just that. Stories. Made up fairy tales, just to give him a false sense of hope. A false promise of a happy ending that was never made for him.
…
It was a dark and rainy night when he finally broke. His mental state had already been rapidly declining all day and now it had broken alongside the raging storm around him.
The storm howled louder than a weeping woman and rain splashed against the water instead of falling down in neat sheets. He cried for the first time that night sitting on the same rock where he had first laid eyes on Jayce. He hadn’t even known it was even possible for him to cry before then. But tears welled up and wouldn’t stop pouring.
The waves crashed heavy on the cliffside, with an oncoming storm echoing on the horizon. Something he should not have ignored but still went unnoticed.
He held the cog in hand and sobbed. Louder than the wind at times. He thrashed and screamed like he had seen human children do a handful of times before. He felt so small, he felt so weak. Even lashing out at the world was not enough. His pitiful wails still went unheard by anyone other than himself.
“If there was any hope or magic in the world you would let me be human. Please. You would end this suffering,” He begged and cried into the night. Only to be met with wind and rain in response.
It felt like mockery, he wanted to scream again but he couldn’t. He used every last part of himself until there was nothing left. He felt strangely empty, as if he had felt everything he could in one night and could not feel any more.
Still shaking, he breathed in slowly and steadily. Trying to calm himself as he slid back into the water.
This was a huge mistake, he instantly realized.
The storm was violently upon him now, making the waters much too rough to swim against. The waves moved rapidly around him as the heavy rainfall crashed down on him. A pitch-black mess of ocean and storm only occasionally interrupted by the flash of lighting. Panic shot through him, everything was so dark, he could hardly tell what was water and what was air. There was not enough strength in his tail fins to fight against the waves on a good day. He had used so much energy in his fit of rage that there was no fight left in him now that he needed it most.
Vicious waves tossed him around as he tried to duck below the surface. He fought the storm best he could, but it was not enough. The push and pull of the ocean was too heavy on his body. His left hand grasped at the water around him, while his right hand still held tightly onto the cog.
Viktor was so selfishly devastated by the thought of losing Jayce’s cog. He could not let go, even if he knew the webbing on his right hand would make it easier to move against the rush of water. Still, he did not let go. He would not let go for anything.
Then he felt himself get dragged under by the force of a large wave crashing over him. It was so sudden, that he did not have time to even think. In a second, he was gone under the surface, getting pulled into the raging current.
All he could think of was how he was being dragged away against his will as he flailed violently about to no avail. He tried to fight; holding on to the adrenaline spiked within him. He was not giving up even though he could feel that he’d already been pulled quite a distance away from where he just was.
Then there was a sharpness on his spine.
The ocean had thrown him closer to the cliffside. He could tell that’s where he was now. Jagged rocks surrounded him, scratching into his back and scales. Cutting into him just enough to leave stings where they carved into his skin. He feared death now. One wrong blow could lead to the end of his life amongst the sharp rocks.
That was when he decided it was for the best to stop fighting entirely and let the ocean carry him wherever it pleased. It was the last thing he could do. Fear overtook him as he let go of his control. The control that he never really had over any part of his life but pretended he did. That hurt him more than anything. Losing something that was never really there.
Viktor decided then that it would be a fitting death.
He didn’t remember much else after that. Just darkness and pain. He thought for certain that he was going to die or that he already had. That he died as he lived, alone and with no control over anything that happened to him.
Until he felt sand underneath his skin and scales.
Then he knew he was alive. Fleeting in and out of consciousness but alive. Too exhausted to move even a muscle or flutter open a single eye. Just left with nothing but his senses on the beach in the dead of night.
But it was not less than the moment he became aware of his surroundings, that he let his exhaustion claim him. Consuming him whole right there on the shore. Pulling him back into that familiar deep darkness he thought he’d just escaped.
He thought that had been the end of it.
It was not.
Hours later, when the storm had subsided along with the darkness and morning crept its way into the east. Viktor felt consciousness creep its way back to him; slowly and unceremoniously. Before he had the strength to open his eyes, he noticed the strange and unfamiliar smells and senses that flooded him.
Cotton. Lavender. Incense.
Not anything he recognized from the ocean.
Softness on his fingertips. Dry air on his face. Warmth all around him.
Not the ocean at all.
It was not until he fully awoke that he realized that he was not on the beach or in his bed of sea moss. But in a room he’d never seen before.
With a pair of human legs, he certainly didn’t have before.
And no one other than Jayce Talis staring back at him.