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letteredwings · 1 year

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K.HJ | Doro Theou

DemiGod!Hongjoong x GN!Pirate!Reader

The sea is your love and your enemy.

She carries you on your adventures and toward your death.

Your one true love who shall never leave your feet, a constant that shall remain. And you shall never leave one another, for you both are made for each other.

That is until she brings you something unexpected.

Title: Doro Theou

Listen To:

Low Hum — Comatose

Ateez — Pirate King

Kawaye — Sweetest Life

Corbyn — Dantes Valley

Jungle — Cherry

Ateez — Wonderland

Taemin — Drip Drop

Michael Seyer — Lucky Love

Hope Tala — Cherries

Dre’es — Warm

DPR IAN — So Beautiful

Kylie Minogue — Chocolate

BMTH — Can You Feel My Heart

Ateez — Beginning of The End

Contains: Fluff, angst; (mentions of alcohol, swearing, death, very mild violence) | AU: Romance, Strangers-to-lovers, Slowburn | W.C. 41k+

A/N: Happy birthday to meeee! This is a VERY long slowburn and I appreciate anyone who reads. This was originally written with fem pronouns, so if you spot any being used for reader please let me know, I tried to take all fem pronouns for reader out. I hope you enjoy, I put a lot into this <3

The sea has a soul; a harbourer of darkness with the tenacity of a storm and the lull of a gentle breeze in a wind chime.

It is both serenity and turmoil.

I stared its soul dead in the eye as it consumed me overwhelmingly so, panic subdued, overtaken by a foreign feeling of calm, the sea singing a hymn that only its victims know. The absence of the night stars and its mother, the moon, leaving an eigengrau sky.

Or maybe, that was just what death looked like.

“Hang tight lads! The sea wants to play.”

Seabreeze whips at the grin on your face— a grin that portrays your brave and wild heart that seeks to conquer— proving how unbothered you are by the vicious waters that wishes to wage war as you guide your crew and your fair lady, Hecate, through the blunders of the sea.

The sun still fairs high in the sky, giving light to the once tranquil waters that all at once suddenly became perturbed, baring the seas soul for what it truly is; shallow waves soon personify the unhinged jaws of Hades hounds, coming in hastily and unwavering, the sun dulling behind woven clusters of darkening clouds that brought with it vehement gusts of wind, strong enough to knock any mortal to their arse.

You weren’t just any mortal, though your heart pounds and you bleed as one; you are the conqueror of the sea. Part of the furniture really by now, and you’d be damned if you were going to cower to it.

Over the yawns screeching into wails, you yell orders to your crew, seawater climbing onto the decks and spraying you with its salty tears. The ship holds steady, your voice that fights to climb above the startling sounds of thunder that give its own order for torrential rain, bringing sharp pelts that feel like shards of glass against your skin, soon grow strained. Yet it doesn’t deter you as you keep your grip on the smooth wood of the wheel, even as the water washes away any ounce of friction to make your hands slip.

Using all your strength to steer against the sea’s force you give a yell of “BRACE YOURSELVES LADS!”

The ship swerves heavily, bringing about more water to gush over the ship's side and sending many of your crew sliding against the floor as it rocks against the waves.

It seems that the sea's wrath will rage well into the night. Yet all at once the waves reign in as if they had never been raging to begin with. The clouds unweave from one another and disperse, drops of rain fading into nothing with only the beating rays of Apollo's sun falling over the expanse of water in shimmers like falling diamonds.

The air is always strange after the sea bears its anger to the world. Silence feels eerie rather than comforting, the stir of water echoing in your ears despite having long stopped, yet when it does fade from your ears, they feel clogged, like you’re beneath the surface rather than on top of it. Soon the murmurs of your crew are clear as day among the world that remains uncharacteristically quiet, unmoving, leaving you panting heavily with your iron grip curled around the wheel.

Then in harmony you all rejoice.

“AHHHHHHH!” Victory speaks like a spell, one that signifies your stand against the sea that has yet to take you captive.

“Our Goddess Hecate still blesses us in her leave!” Meli’s palm lands heavy and warm on your shoulder, prompting you to look at her. The seasalt dries in the tight coils of her hair, the sun glowing against her bilberry skin like the meaning of her name, honey.

“Or it’s that the Gods decided not to waste something as sweet as you to the underworld, Meli.” You tease. She only laughs, shaking her head as she fixes her blood-red bandana.

“How off course are we then?”

She moves from the helm to lay a map and her compass on a flat surface, eyes moving from the crinkled and worn sheet to the horizon. Even without her calculations, it is abundantly clear that the sudden storm has caused you to stray from your path.

“Captain, Olympus above— a man!” Oddeye draws the attention of not just you, but everyone on board as he looks out into the water. Like a magnet, you’re all drawn starboard and it is then that you see what Oddeye saw— indeed a man. “OI, LADDIE!” Of course, he’s unresponsive.

Your brows draw together, staring upon his body bobbing along the water, not sure whether he’s dead or alive. “Bring him in.”

He’s fairly small and you half expect his body to be battered and bruised— especially if he was caught in the sudden storm— though the only thing on him that seems to be evidence of a battering is his shirt hanging from him like a torn rag. Your crew pulls him in and you can’t help but to admire his features that seem so soft, especially under the kiss of the sun.

Seonghwa presses his fingers to the pulsepoint on his neck and lowers his ear to hover over his lips. “He’s still breathing.”

“Get him inside and sort him out, Hwa.” Seonghwa nods, ordering a couple other deckhands to bring him down.

“Captain, don’t you think it strange to find a man this far out and alive?”

Your eyes leave the young man to smile at Meli. “You know how much I love strange things.”

Oddeye follows you both back to the helm, a troubled look on his face. “We’ve known you long enough to know that, Captain.” He pauses, mulling over his next words. “But I also know that look in your eyes— when you’ve really taken a shine to something.” You open your mouth to protest, not sure what he means when you only looked upon the man for mere seconds. But Oddeye holds a rough wrinkled hand up, calmly regarding you. “I’m just sayin’ Captain, keep a weather eye open, ey?”

“Of course. The crew comes first, Oddeye.” You promise.

You both look to Meli, who pushes herself up with a sigh. “We’re about a day off course, Captain. Head North.”

“Aye, aye.”

—

Darkness blankets his vision— or rather, his brain is unable to conjure anything else under his closed lids, too feverish as tremors run through him aggressively, slivers of overbearing heat making him feel as if his skin is melting away over a bed of lava. The sinews of his muscles, deeper into his bones ache, and has his body twisting in staggering pain. A whimper crawls from the shadows of his throat, teeth clenching as his pulse hammers with the strength of Hercules himself, sending his blood rushing at an inhumane pace.

Am I dead?

His insides heave with the strength of a wave, bringing the air inside of him gushing from his lungs and out his lips; a sudden life returns to him, lungs filling with the air that had been lost to the invasion of the ocean water. Those heat-filled trembles still run through him, making his chest erratically rise and fall. The attempt to open his eyes brings about a dull thud behind his lids, vibrating throughout his head making him wince. “Oh Gods…” He rasps out, clenching his eyes tighter in response to the pain.

Only when his body gains a semblance of strength, slowly awakening enough that he can force the pain down, does he will himself to open his eyes. There's a subtle rocking that he realises isn’t his stomach turning, the motions giving him reason to believe that he is still at sea. Through his blurred vision he tries to piece together his surroundings; dull wooden planks smelling of rot and seasalt make up the small room, the entire structure yawns with each shift along the water, the sound now rushing into his ears. There’s crates pressed against the walls of the room, lines of rope woven around barrels and when his vision clears he can see the small table with a jug and some form of a cup. It’s a struggle to push himself to sit up, one that has his bones yawning like the ship when he moves to rest his head against the wooden wall, head lolling to the side as he pants from the effort.

With a shaky arm he manages to reach over for the jug and cup, water overspilling due to his weak hold. The jug lands heavily on the crate it had occupied, but he doesn’t bear it any mind when he starts to guzzle at the water in an urge to wash away the sandy sensation in his throat. Through deep breaths he studies the room closer, now noticing the slither of moonlight coming through the ceiling— where steps lead to two doors.

The brig?

Shakily, he swings his leg over the makeshift wooden bed that had been laid down with straw and cotton sheets. The mere movement gave away just how weak his body has become, energy nearly completely depleting when his bare feet set on the ground. He sways with the boat, stumbling with his knees buckling and hands reaching out to catch himself against the wall. He tries recalling what could have happened that he’s ended up here, but the attempt makes his head hurt as much as the answer.

Nothing comes to mind, only blanknless, as if his recent memories have been wiped.

It only serves to make him more anxious.

Reaching for his chest, fingers curl around the chain that rests close to his heart and its instinct to recite his mothers words in his head.

“My dearest Hongjoong, our strength lies in our song and the strongest song of all is the beat of our heart. Always find your strength in your heart.”

As if her words are some kind of incantation he feels an otherworldly power start to course through his veins. His weak demeanour immediately shifts to one of a being with the blood of a God and with this profound strength he rushes up the steps and pushes through the air to slam against the upper doors. Seeming effortlessly they crack open, the wood splintering where the iron fastenings have broken open allowing Hongjoong to stumble through.

The sea air burns against his already feverish skin, the soothing sounds of the water doing little to calm the adrenaline making him feel erratic. The moon is full and high in the sky, an abundance of stars lighting its expanse like lanterns of silver. He can’t see anyone, but he clearly hears the guffaw of those nearby.

Swiftly, he carries onward, hiding behind barrels in caution. He needs to think logically, though it is somewhat difficult with his body still fighting to cling to what strength he has.

In his assessment he concludes the obvious: he’s unarmed, on an unknown ship, in the middle of nowhere, with Gods knows how many men on board— their own intentions unknown to him.

Thoughts tangle chaotically in his mind and in the midst of his pondering he fails to notice the subtle steps creeping up behind him and before he knows it there’s a pressure of a cool and sharpened blade against his throat.

“Easy.” He flinches and the blade snags against his throat, the air hitting the open skin until the sting makes him wince. The voice remains calm, calmer than the tornado of anxiety swirling inside him. “We found you.” The stranger tells him. “Floating on the water and pulled you in… had one of my crewmen take care of you…” When you see that he’s listening and deem he’s not a threat, you let out a small inaudible breath of relief. “I’m going to move away slowly. We aren’t here to hurt you.” Keeping your word, you slowly move away from him and instead round to face him.

Unlike the softness of your voice, the image before him is a stark contrast. Whatever expectations he had as to what you would look like soon dissipated upon laying his eyes on your rough skin and unruly hair full of knots and twists.

He blinks when you speak again, eyes meeting yours. “How are you feeling?” You question gently.

He gapes at you for a moment longer, eyes straying over the monotone browns and beiges, to your hand curled around the hilt of your blade at your side. Again his eyes blink, clearing away his surprise as he closes his gaped mouth. “I… I feel confused. I don’t remember… much.”

You study him far more subtlely than he you. His confusion proves evident and you conclude that there is no reason to suspect he’s lying about not being able to recall the moments that led to your discovery of him adrift at sea, but despite that, you heed the echo of Oddeye’s words to be wary of him in your head.

“— Where am I?”

"— What do you remember?”

As you speak over each other it brings a smile to your lips and unexpectedly to Hongjoong’s too, relieving some of the tension in the air.

“You’re on my ship, Hecate.”

A jolt of recognition and curiosity for the chosen name travels through him.

“Oh, you’re sailors?”

You grin impishly and another jolt knocks Hongjoongs insides, though he can’t decipher the cause of this one. “In a way…” You say mysteriously, moving to lean against the ship's side as you regard him. “There was a sudden storm and the waters had gotten rough. Then it stopped as quick as it came and suddenly, there you were. Floating unconscious in the middle of the sea.”

He nods slowly, brows drawing together in thought. “Well, thank you… You saved my life and for that I’m grateful.”

“You should thank your lucky stars— you’re lucky to have survived that far out at sea.”

“Well, luck, a God, I guess they’re the same thing.”

Your head whips around, body immediately becoming alight with warmth and fondness. “Hecate!” You rush forward, no hesitation when you unceremoniously clamp your arms around her. Her thick black hair falls as a heavy plait at her back, her robe smelling of all the spices she works with, wafting up your nose— a smell you find comforting as you squeeze her. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here, my friend?”

She smiles with the gentleness and elegance of a Goddess, peaking around you to look upon her dear nephew, “Just checking in on your new friend.” She leans her body beside you to look on at the supposed new stranger aboard.

You turn your head incredulously. “You know him? Wait…” You pause in thought, looking between the two. “You guided him to us.”

Hecate gives a secretive smile when she responds. “Correct, my dear friend. Sweet Hongjoong was in trouble and I knew if anyone could help, it would be you.”

“What happened?” He finally speaks up, frowning deeper in question. Meanwhile, you memorise his name, an intruding thought that you think the name fitting in its beauty that matches him, despite not even knowing him.

Hecate seems to be in a playful mood tonight, her smile widening and baring the pearls of her teeth that look like they were carved from moonlight, vermillion eyes teasing. “All in good time, nephew. You’ll remember when you need to.”

“Nephew?” You breathe out, eyes set on the man— no, not a man— “You’re a God?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Demi.”

You’re left gaping between the two. “Like that makes a bloody difference.” You say, voice turning near shrill. “No wonder you survived out there. I should have known.” You rant, until Hecate lays a calming hand over your forearm.

“Be calm, friend. I must go now, but I have a favour to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“Can you take care of my dear nephew for a while? I trust he’ll be safe with you until his memories return.”

“Of course.”

When Hongjoong goes to protest, Hecate merely raises a brow to have him submit to her wishes. “Yes aunty.” He mumbles.

“Splendid!” She claps her tattooed hands together, moving to take hold of yours, giving you a soft smile. “Thank you for this, friend.”

“Anything for you.”

With that she disappears into the night, like she was never there.

The silence stretches, the both of you in your own thoughts until Hongjoong eventually speaks again.

“Where are you headed anyway?”

You move to start walking to the helm and he follows you. When you reach the table before the steering wheel, you stab your dagger into the map. “Heard people disappear ‘round these isles.”

“So you’re going there?” He asks incredulously.

You laugh, leaning toward him, “Doesn’t it sound like an adventure?”

Hongjoong wonders if he’ll actually be safe with you. Guess he’s going to have to find out.

—

Morning tastes like salt cliffs shedding into his mouth, the very smell permeating his skin until all he knows is the grains rubbing his insides dry, like flayed fish left to marinate in the white rock, shrivelling and rough.

Gulls call out ahead through the window of the brig making Hongjoong squint toward the downpour of sunlight, golden and gentle unlike the rise and fall of the keel slapping back down onto the waves. It turns his stomach and in turn his head, a dizzy spell washing over him making him fall back with a groan. The incident has made his body less inclined to be at sea, a violent memory that though he cannot physically recall, lives deep in his sinews and has him recoiling from the watery prison.

As if sensing that he has awoken, the doors of the brig creak open, dragging away the shadows and allowing the light to fully inhabit the space. Down you come, a jug in one hand, liquid steaming its fragrance amongst the wood and twine and right up to Hongjoong’s nose, with a mortar in the other.

“Drink up, Demi-God. Lest you throw up on my decks again.”

Though humour tinges your voice, Hongjoong flushed with embarrassment, every heave and wretch rippling through his body as if he were reliving the exact moment he painted the floors with his ailment. A small smile pulls at your lips when he timidly takes the jug, a soft thank you drifting with the steam, You stand there waiting as he pours a cup and lets the jug settle atop the barrel being used as a makeshift table and watch as he draws the cup of dark liquid to his lips, blowing against the heat before taking a sip.

Lavender, pressed vanilla, crushed and fermented grape amongst other herbs swim warmly down his throat to his gut, soothing the sickness like a mothers lullabye. There’s a sweetness like nectar that sticks to his lips and tongue and a herbal bitterness amongst it. You supply an answer before he even asks. “A little remedy Hecate taught me— wine has many benefits. I used to get the most awful sickness at sea. You bring back memories.” Hongjoong wants to ask more— Hecate taught you? How did you even come to be friends with a Titan God? — but there’s no chance for his voice to rise as he savours the warm wine and you command instead. “Come. Oddeye is making breakfast. If you’re not fast enough you’ll only have a mere crumb.”

You warned him of that yesterday and the day before too. That every individual has quick hands and even quicker mouths, so he must learn to be quicker or starve.

But he doesn’t comment how just yesterday he heard you whisper to Oddeye to make sure the Demi-God gets something to eat and instead follows you up to the decks, where funnily enough Oddeye is frying some saltfish.

He’s drained the water he was soaking it in out into the already salty sea, now leaving it to rest in a ceramic bowl waiting for him to cook.

“Ah, Demi-God, come, come. Learn.” Hongjoong’s brows shoot up in surprise, but he really has no time to even utter the questioning me on the tip of his tongue because with a roguish laugh you push him toward Oddeye, walking around them both to take seat upon a crate and watch them both as if they were your personal performers.

Oddeye tells Hongjoong the method of making saltfish, how he prides himself in keeping only the best fish and taking the time to cut and dry and salt it in one of the claypots he gained during a raid. Hongjoong listens avidly, eyes like a baby bird watching a worm dangle from its mother's beak and you feel a foreign softness that you don’t quite register fill you as Oddeye starts instructing Hongjoong to make some parathas.

“What do you mean you don’t know how?” He chatices and the stricken look on Hongjoong’s face has you snorting behind your hand, the poor boy fumbling to copy Oddeye as he orders him to do as he does.

You wonder if wherever Hongjoong was before you found him, if he lived like a prince with people to do things for him, or if like a newborn lamb, he forced his legs to straighten and followed along, observed and learnt and did things for himself.

Watching him with Oddeye, pressing into the dough, rolling it out over and over, you like to think that Hongjoong is not an Olympian prick who relies on his Godliness. That he be more human than anything. Though you’re not sure why you should care at all. Afterall, he is merely here under the wish of your friend and you’re sure that soon enough he will be gone from your sight.

The crew stuff their faces on fish, fried banana skins and parathas and while you eat quietly, watching them shove their elbows into the other while tearing at the flatbread, you fail to notice Hongjoong’s eyes expectantly on you.

He watches your secretive smile and your attention fall to your own food, eyes zeroing in on your calloused hands pulling apart the bread and wrapping it around the fish and curried banana and his own lips curve secretively, pleased, when above the ruckus he can hear your appreciative hum, can see the nod of your head in approval and your hands reach for more of the paratha.

He doesn’t question his pleasure in your approval, only glad to see you enjoy it as he turns his attention back to his own food. (That one of the deckhands was secretly trying to reach for.)

Hongjoong ends up helping Oddeye for the next two mornings, each starting with you greeting him with the herbal wine and the woodworm remedy, with you watching the both of them with Hecate’s moon glowing in the depths of your eyes, joyous of Hongjoong under Oddeye’s instructions— one day teaching him what to do with nearly spoiled veg and the next how to cut open green coconuts with a machete and what to do with its meat after.

Today though, you hadn’t woken him. The wine sat cold and the wormwood waited for him to paint beneath his nose, but you were the only thing missing. Stretching, Hongjoong finishes his morning drink, then allows the scent of the wormwood mix to gather under his nostrils before he starts to make his way above deck.

Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening. The crew tend to their usual duties and Oddeye stands at his spot where he usually prepares food, his knife cutting into vegetables that he throws into a pot of boiling water. He tends to the fire beneath now and again, ensuring it is still burning and not escaping with its flamed limbs elsewhere, but he has yet to see you.

“Good morning.”

“Oh, lad, you’re up! I’ve done it all now, so don’t worry about helping me.”

Hongjoong nods, eyes still searching elsewhere. Licking his lips, he asks with a frown “where’s the Captain?”

“Below deck. They’re getting the lines ready.” Hongjoong raises an inquisitive brow, so Odd Eye supplies “we're hoping to get a good catch. These parts usually have the best fish you see.”

Today the skies are clear, a painting of watered blue that is near translucent above, void of clouds and only full of blinding light. This far out there are no birds scouring and cawing, only that constant rhythm of water knocking against the ship.

While taking his time admiring the vastness of the ocean, a load of the crew pile up from below and from behind you follow, holding an end of a net with the other crewmen. The five of you carry it to the very end of the ship and haul it into the water, keeping a secure hold of it. There’s mutters and you instruct a young boy to go get the ship moving, but gently, in hopes of scooping a school up.

Oddeye was telling Hongjoong about today's breakfast and then something about how well the fish will go with it, but he subconsciously tuned him out when his eyes locked onto your figure. Another billowing shirt that probably used to be white and frayed slacks that fell too low over your sandaled feet.

He hopes you don’t trip.

It’s that small cause for concern that compels Hongjoong to walk over, leaving Oddeye to talk to thin air and once he’s close, he wordlessly crouches down and starts to fold the hem up until the material is safely at your ankles. You look down in surprise only to see the crown of his head and his hands switching from one of your legs to the other. As if he knows your eyes are already on him, he looks up to directly meet your gaze. “Don’t want you falling over now, do we?”

“I suppose not…” Staring a moment longer, you dismiss the random gesture entirely. “How’s the seasickness?”

He stands to his full height and graces you with that Apollo-worthy smile of his. “Your remedy seems to be helping.”

You nod, retraining your attention on the net to help start tying it off to the ship's side. “That is good news. Hopefully you will not need it for long.”

“I hope so too. I don’t recall ever having this sickness before. If we’re to be at sea for so long, maybe I will become normal again.”

Your face falls slightly when you look at him again, swiping your palms together to clear some dirt.

“Oh. I meant until we get you back on land. I doubt you will be us for so long.”

A frown forms (as well as an odd sensation of disappointment). “Have you word from Hecate?”

“Well, no.”

“Am I that bad of company that you wish to be rid of me then?”

A cheeky smile forms on your face and Hongjoong feels his mind scrambling to memorise that look with all the light hitting your face, the lines created by your grinning lips. “And what if you are?”

Hongjoong feels cheeky himself. “It will displease you to know that I will have to stay by your side until you enjoy my company.”

That pulls a hearty laugh from you, a sound that skips prettily along the water into the distance, one that breezes its way into the chambers of Hongjoong’s heart and contains itself there. It blocks his airways momentarily. In fact it ceases his nerve-endings, not properly allowing him to function so he’s left standing there in a daze with a silly smile on his face.

He doesn’t even realise it’s there until Oddeye approaches from behind and slaps a hand down on Hongjoong’s shoulder, breaking his reverie. “I think he’ll be a good little apprentice, Captain. He’s quite useful, you know. Be a shame to see him go so soon.”

Your eyes narrow, part in confusion, part in suspicion, because isn’t this the same man who warned you to be careful around the newcomer. “Well you best get as much use out of him as you can while he’s still here, Oddeye.”

“As should you, Captain.” He lowly mutters, thinking you don’t hear him. Yet when your steely eyes glare at him, he has some sense to straighten up and walk away, muttering something about finishing cooking as he does so.

Your eyes are still trailing after him in annoyance when a snicker steals your attention, bringing your sharp gaze to cut into Hongjoong instead. But unlike Oddeye, he has no sense to stop and only laughs harder once he meets your gaze.

“Something funny?”

You forget that Hongjoong isn’t actually a member of your crew, that he isn’t someone who knows you, so he takes your serious tone in jest, baring his marble-like teeth to you and the sun, making him appear that much more dazzling.

Or maybe it’s just that unbothered attitude all the Gods have and he does know and simply does not care.

“I mean, if you need to use me, that’s perfectly fine.”

Yeah, he just doesn’t care.

The narrow of your eyes makes him break out into pure, unadulterated laughter, one that shakes him so hard his back bows and his face creases up into the cutes—

“Fine. Let’s go demigod.”

Hongjoong is left staring after your retreating body in confusion. You hadn’t even looked at him as you started walking away and it’s only when you’re at the mouth of the entrance to below deck that his brain kickstarts his body into action, feet tripping up on themselves when he starts to rush after you.

He can’t see, but you’re containing your smirk hearing his clumsy steps as you start to walk down the stairs.

It’s much noisier down here, with crewmen filing about from floor to floor, one end to the other, though as you get to a lower floor, the noises decrease and Hongjoong suspects why as his noise grimaces at the pungent smell of fish.

The lone lit lamp aids you in lighting up the others and soon bears both of your eyes to the barrels piled with fish. There’s only three barrels, but the depths of it is telling of how rich the catch was (if the smell wasn’t a clue) and three others, one with water and the other two empty.

“Here.” Hongjoong’s eyes fall to your outstretched hand to find you offering him a small blade. His bottom lip juts out as he airs the confusion he surely feels and this time you laugh at him. “You said to use you right? You can help me clean and gut the fish.” As his fingers hesitantly wrap around the hilt you smirk, voice challenging when you say “or is that too much for the pretty demigod?”

Hongjoong practically snatches it away from you, very clearly the fish caught in a net here when you smile, pleased to have baited the silly man.

“Done this before?” You’re moving easily, picking a fish from a barrel and using your own knife to start gutting it. Hongjoong shakes his head no. “The underside. Run the knife like so. Rinse the fish in this barrel. Make sure you’ve cleaned the insides out. Keep the tails and heads, Oddeye uses them.”

“That’s it?”

“Easy as that, Demigod.”

Hongjoong moves toward a barrel and by the time he manages to pluck one, you’ve gutted another three, moving with ease and sureness. “You must do this often.”

You scoff a laugh. “I’ve been at sea for as long as I can remember. You pick up a thing or two. Especially when it comes to a meal.”

Hongjoong merely nods, turning his attention to the fish. His browns squint together as he brings up the tip of the blade, however he doesn’t anticipate how tough the skin is, grunting as he pushes into it. “Oh, Gods.” He grunts when the blade cuts through to the other side.

He loses focus when he catches your mocking laughter, cheeks burning in embarrassment when you move closer and take the fish from his hands and discard it in the barrel of guts. Picking up another you place it in Hongjoong’s hand and then to his surprise you take hold of his hand weidling the blade and softly start to instruct with amusement in your eyes.

“Look. You start softly, following the skin. Go with it, not against it. Cut, cut, cut, softly. See! You’re in. Then it’s easy.”

Hongjoong finds that he’s holding his breath and not because of the smell, but because the crown of your head is right by face as it bows to focus on the fish. The light from the lamps wash warmly on you and sink into your eyes like it’s naturally a part of them. He can see the shape of your features, moulded to fit perfectly on your skin like clay under a sculpture's hand, the details of each lash lining your downcast eyes, tongue swiping your dry lips, and it makes his heart forget its own purpose of beating for a moment.

Until you look up and Hongjoong’s gaze sharply turns to your hands. He nods, as if he hadn’t just tuned out your voice halfway through your explanation and mutters “thanks, I think I got it.”

“Good! Because I don’t want us to be here all day.”

The experience shows in your pace, making it hard for Hongjoong to quietly observe the way it is supposed to be done. It seems as soon as you’ve grabbed a fish from the barrel you’ve already gutted it and are onto the next.

But his eyes are quick, his brain absorbing your actions and soon he can just about match your pace. Though you don’t look at him, you do let out an impressed whistle. “Not bad, Demigod.” The minimal praise shouldn’t make him as elated as it does, but he feels himself consuming it almost greedily, like your praise is the ultimate reward.

“Try to keep up, Captain.” He tests, thinking perhaps he can reel you in, but you merely scoff, shaking your head.

“How on Hellas could I ever keep up with a Demigod, hm?” The sarcasm grates his ears, but he senses no malice, spotting the faint curve at the edge of your lips as you smirk.

“Shall I slow down for you then?”

“And why should you do that?”

“So we are at the same pace of course.”

“I don’t believe we will ever be at the same pace, Demigod.”

That comment piques Hongjoong’s interest. “What makes you say that?”

“Different worlds and all that— literally.”

“I am still half of this world— I am in your world right now.”

You hum thoughtfully. “That is very true. So you should be on your best behaviour right?” It’s said so casually, but there’s something in your words that makes Hongjoong realise why everyone so easily calls you Captain, an edge that transcends your appearance, masked behind that airiness of it and has him blinking after you.

Noticing his silence you finally spare him a glance. When you quirk a brow he responds with an airy chuckle, nodding his head to himself, though you take it as him affirming your words.

The quiet remains after. There is only the sound of blade through flesh, of flesh hitting flesh as it’s dropping into the barrel and after a while Hongjoong pauses when sores bubble on his palm where he’s been gripping the knife. It’s for mere seconds he ceases to continue with the task, but you notice immediately, glancing to see Hongjoong press his thumb into his palms.

“Go see Hwa.”

“Hm?” You think that the way this Demigod blinks is somewhat cute, in the same way a child might be cute, clearly unaware you had even been paying attention to him.

“I said, go see Hwa. He can give you something for your hands.”

The blink returns to his open palm. “Oh. Oh. that’s okay, I can just go once we—”

“I wasn’t asking, Demigod. I know how painful those can get. It’s better you see Hwa now than risking your skin cutting open and dying of infection, don’t you think?”

He presses his lips together, unable to argue against that. Giving a simple nod he extends his hand to you offering the blade you lent him, but your eyes don’t even look. “Keep it. I have plenty more.”

Hongjoong smiles as if you bestowed upon him a chestful of treasure. And with that smile, he takes his leave, leaving you alone in the company of dead fish.

—

It truly must be a pure talent for the different ways that Oddeye can find to cook the fish. It has been nearly a week straight of fish and Hongjoong can only count his lucky stars that there are so many crew members to feed, because he’s certain that the menu would be fish for at least the month otherwise.

As he has been doing the past few days, Hongjoong is helping Oddeye to prepare dinner. Usually breakfast is so filling, they work through the day and then eat before the sun sets.

It’s odd how he hasn’t been here very long, but he almost feels at home.

Hours trickle away with the song of the sea in his ears, eyes scouring the constant motion of the crew, cleaning, hauling, bustling all over the ship, but when dinner time comes there’s a different kind of liveliness, relief and warmth and cheer when a meal is shared. It’s one of Hongjoong’s favourite things about being here.

“When you’re done, just put it in the pot.” Oddeye instructs, going between his own tasks.

Hongjoong is busy grinding up some herbs for Oddeye; cloves and dried mint, salt and dried chillies, garlic and peppercorn and the like. He offers a hum in response, gritting his teeth as he presses the pestle harder into the mortar, grinding everything together the way Oddeye’s shown him and that’s when you appear unsuspectingly at his side.

“What’s this, Demigod?” He jumps, jostling and nearly losing his grip on the pestle. Blinking at you with wide eyes you chortle at his expression, then wave the small object in question before him.

“Oh. It’s a fish.”

That has you rolling your eyes. “I can see that. I mean what was it doing in my quarters?”

Hongjoong gently rests the pestle within the mortar and fully turns to you, smiling as he eyes his handiwork.

“Just a thank you. For the knife. And your protection of course.” There’s a cheeky glint in his eyes that matches the curls at the edges of his lips when he says that, making you scoff your own barely audible laugh. But then his gaze turns serious as he asks “do… do you not like it?”

The question throws you off guard, because you didn’t really expect him to care whether you did or not. “I…. think it is nice. Thank you.”

He beams then, a smile that scatters the surroundings like the beating rays of the sun over the sea and it momentarily blinds you.

“Then I shall make you more.” He promises, so glad he carved that little wooden fish for you.

You ponder on if you should ask more, eventually allowing your curiosity to voice itself.

“Where did you learn?”

He tells you of the great craftsman Daedalus and how he met him while Hongjoong was entertaining the king and queen with his music during a festival.

“Well, I am glad you met him then.”

A simple smile is what you leave Hongjoong behind with.

—

A lullaby in the form of waves sends Hongjoongs mind adrift into the depths of sleep. Before it is able to swallow him, he sees your face and recalls the last moments with you once more. Your voice spoke just over the whisper of the sea breeze, a calmness that bled warmth into him when all you merely said was for him to get some rest and that you’ll reach your destination tomorrow, with an apology that his lodgings are so shitty at the moment. Though he questioned if he would truly be safe as his aunt hoped, he couldn’t deny the soft dulcet of your tone coming together like a melody of the sweetest nectar harvested by Demeter herself and providing a feeling so sweet, honey thick as it filled every nook and cranny of his insides, that there was simply no room left for doubtful thoughts— only serenity.

As his eyes fall heavy, departing into darkness, he thinks that your Apollo-crafted smile will fall away into the deepest remnants of his mind, however like a moth chasing the brightest light, you flutter into his subconscious and imprint that smile on the grounds of his dreamscape.

His bare feet digs into silk-soft sand, the grains sliding between his toes as he stands before a shore of azure that splits under the blinding white of the sun. He doesn’t know how he came to be here, but he doesn’t question it with his eyes drawn to such beauty, enamoured in a way that feels as if the essence of his soul is being drawn out to swallow it all in.

A light soon irritates his eyes, a reflection bouncing the ray right onto his face; he draws a hand up to shield himself, squinting towards the source and spotting a bottle washed up on the beach. Curiosity gets the best of him when he approaches the object. It’s heavy in his hand, though the glass is empty save for a roll of paper trapped inside. There’s a pop when he pulls the cork from the lid that he drops to the sand, tipping the glass till the paper is at the mouth of the bottle, using his fingers to pull it out the rest of the way.

The edges are worn, the paper itself crinkled and fragile as if it will fall apart from the mere kiss of the wind. He unravels it with care between his dainty fingers, eyeing the scrawl of black ink.

“It’s like a lie

A grand sight that’s like a lie”

He’s unsure what compels him to, but as soon as he’s read the words his eyes glance up to the horizon and a gasp breaks through his suddenly dry and cracked lips— the horizon becomes almost distorted, the sun seeming to dip into the sea before returning to normal.

It makes him stumble backwards and a cry leaves his mouth when he trips.

Another bottle.

The frown on his face deepens as he pulls it from the sand.

“I close my eyes then open them several times.

I’m like a Pundit, you know this feeling?”

As if the words have him under hypnosis, he blinks repeatedly, closing his eyes tight and opening them to the view before him.

He thinks he sees a small boat in the distance, its silhouette visible against the sun. The paradise seems to still be there, the water calm and the sun glistening.

Until it's not.

The sun dips into the sea and the air becomes hostile as it chills. It’s eerily quiet for a moment until a boom erupts and with it the ocean jumps like a bolt triggering a pulse, bringing with it a wave that seems to touch the sky. Fear seems to take the form of ice, freezing him entirely as he becomes shadowed in its great destruction, until something inside kickstarts his instincts to run.

His limbs tangle through hanging leaves and ropes of vine, the fuzz of webs catching his face and sticking to his hair, muscles burning as he pushes himself. His foot catches on a log and he tumbles forward, the bottles he didn’t realise he was still holding slipping from his hands and rolling away. He groans, looking back anxiously, only to see no sign of the wave incoming.

“What is that, what is that?” Hongjoong’s head shoots to the side of him and screams, scrambling away at the sight of a frog talking to him. He flips over onto his knees, about to push himself up when a turtle appears saying the same thing. Around its neck is a bottle hanging by a string. Shakily, he pulls it over the turtle's head.

“A frog and turtle, speaking to me,

Red sunflowers

What is that?”

Blooms appear out of nowhere— red sunflowers. They line in a certain way going deeper into the jungle he’s become entangled in and again, there’s a feeling like hypnosis when he starts to follow the path, the frog and turtles echoing ‘what is that’ fading behind him.

He follows until he arrives at a clearing that steals his breath. The green pastures are enclosed by rockslates where a single waterfill spills into a pool of glowing white— an image that suits Olympus more than it does Earth. It calls to him, drawing him in, that question of what is that becoming his own and soon he is thigh deep in the opal waters, skin radiating from its brightness.

But, like the beach he was on, the image before him distorts, flashes of snakes appearing before his eyes before returning to the normal image of the water. He feels like the air is being squeezed from him, but there’s no struggle as he sinks into the pools, ready to succumb to whatever it is offering.

The light starts to engulf him, Hongjoongs eyes on the sky that bleeds an array of pinks and purples making him feel so content—

In a sudden moment the colours swirl and muddy together and again, they distort, a sea of inky black above him. The light that was surrounding him disappears, the feeling of water clinging to his body now something heavier, more malicious, coiling tighter and tighter as if to crush his body and then it’s gone.

His body is dragged and he gasps as if it's the very first breath he’s taken. The last thing he sees is your face over him, shaking his shoulders and mutely calling out his name.

His saviour.

The sun has his eyes squinting against its strength when he emerges from his room. Sleep evaporated the moment he awoke from the dream, one that you had unexpectedly infiltrated. It’s instinct to search for you, soon finding you standing at the hull of the ship looking out at the sea.

Under the sun, your features bathe in its warmth, the rough edges of your appearance slinking away under the rays and making Hongjoong think you look more like the nymph's he sees dwelling upon the springs on Olympus. An overly large hat sits atop your head, probably a symbol of your Captaincy and you don similar clothes to the night he first met you. The wind billows out the loose off-white sleeves of your blouse even more and as he comes closer he can see that your eyes are drawn closed against the feeling.

Pushing the odd dream from his mind, he asks “what’s the plan then?” He knew you were due to go to those Isles for Gods knows what reason, but you told him the night before that you planned to make a stop somewhere first.

Your head tilts toward him, offering that smile that has etched itself in his memory long ago. Turning, you point at your pigs. “Gonna send them off first.” He frowns in confusion, but doesn’t get a chance to ask what you mean when you move to take a seat at the makeshift table.

“Tell me, Hongjoong. What did you inherit from the Gods?”

He takes a seat across from you, smiling as he thinks of his mother, one whom he sees in rarity, but cherishes nonetheless. “Music.” Your eyes become excited then, taking on the strength of the sun with their shine. “My mother, Euterpe, is a muse.” He ends up telling you stories of the muses— his mother, aunts and some of his cousins — how he was allowed to stay on Olympus in infancy and would gather in the great halls to perform for the Great Gods. How music soon became as natural as breathing for him.

You’re invested in each of his stories, his voice so captivating you’re sure that if he were to use it for what runs in his veins you would be spellbound to him.

A frown draws on your face though. Curiosity battling your mesmerisation. “Do you remember anything yet?”

That smile falls from his face and you think it a pity that he not bear what is probably the highest gift of the Gods and instead frowns himself. He’s about to tell you that he still can’t remember the events that led to him adrift at sea when he’s distracted by the creature striding over the table— a cat. He watches you pull a small greasy looking sack from your side, the bottom darkening as if it carried oil and the smell is pungent when you open it and pull out shreds of fish.

He resists gagging, instead watching you feed the cat with a barely concealed grimace. “I caught it fresh, princess.” You tell the cat, your features softening with affection as you coo at the feline. “Fit for royalty, don’t you think?” Princess meows as if responding in agreement, licking at your palm before nuzzling it’s head against it.

Hongjoong analyses you, noticing the scars on your body, one starting on your hand leading up over your forearm when you’ve pushed your sleeves up, another on your forehead, prompting him to ask you about them. You smile telling him how they relate to each of your adventures. He frowns. “So you get hurt quite often.” He states.

You only shrug. “Hazards of the job.” Your attention returns to petting your cat and soon you start to sing softly to it, causing a foreign sensation to shift in his chest.

“You sing.”

You look up sheepishly, an expression he didn’t think he’d see from someone like you. “A little.”

He smiles. “Like me.”

You scoff a laugh. “Don’t all Gods? Especially ones whose mother is a muse.”

“Not like me.” He says confidently.

“Well, you’re going to have to prove it.” Your challenge ignites flames in his eyes and in turn, it makes you feel alive, in a way you haven’t experienced before— especially not from mere eye contact. Clearing your throat, you look away first— another first for you. “When you’re more rested, ey? Can’t have you using the excuse that you’re still recovering for giving me a bad performance.”

Laughter erupts from him, the sound like music itself, enrapturing every inch of you inside out and you’re wondering if Oddeyes warning wasn’t totally off, just for a reason you never expected. “It’s a deal.”

Silence falls between the two of you, the crew working in the background, the water sloshing against the sides of the ship. Your curiosity seems to be contagious, because a thought pops into Hongjoong’s head. “Say...Where did you get the map to those Isles? I heard they were all burned up and the only one left was—”

“In the great library.” You smile, standing up. “Come, follow me.”

You lead Hongjoong to your quarters, distracting him from your busy hands as he looks around. The space is relatively tidy and very basic (not as basic as where he is staying, though), with a bed laid with purple sheets and a desk piled with scrolls upon scrolls and stacks of plain papyrus before it all. You head to the bookshelf while Hongjoong approaches your desk and picks up a scroll with excited eyes. “This is rare.”

Turning, you nod seeing the scroll in his hands. The Book of Monsters.

“Can I read it?” He asks, making you forget your original purpose of bringing him down here.

You tilt your head, taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “Only if you read it to me.”

Hongjoong smiles, moving to sit at the stool by your desk. He unwinds the thick scroll, fingers carefully turning the fragile pages till his eyes fall to the first page in old Greek and starts to read.

You’re enraptured by his voice— the way he story tells, each soft note reaching you.

In the midst of your hypnosis, ears keening to his voice, Meli appears. She looks from Hongjoong to you, but makes no comment on the matter. “We’re nearing the marina.”

You nod, standing, then offer Hongjoong a smile. “We’ll have to continue this later.”

Meli doesn’t comment on that either.

Closing the book, Hongjoong places it back on top of the pile he took it from then looks at you curiously, asking what’s going on. You only give him a mysterious smile. “Exchanging some pigs, remember?”

Hongjoong notes the change in air when you both come back onto the deck. It’s almost musty, a strange cloud of darkness falling over the surroundings, despite the sky being clear. The pier looks worn and decayed, creaking when Oddeye jumps onto the planks and twists rope around the cleat. As the crew ready to set forth from the ship, you regard them all.

“Right lads, one eye on your front and one on your back.”

There’s a chorus of ay’s and then the crew start to pile from the ship. When Hongjoong goes to move, you press a hand to his chest. “I think it best you stay here, Demi God.” He frowns at you, the brown of his eyes becoming misty, almost dusty like the old shorefront.

“And why do you think that’s best?” He tests, attempting to move forward again, only to feel the tips of your fingers dig harder against his chest.

“Because this is not the place for pretty boys or found-at-sea-amnesiacs, of which you are both.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Your giggle distracts him from his original point, eyes near shining at him with your smile. “I’ve yet to meet a God who is not,”

“I should introduce you to several of my cousins then.” He mumbles, the comment bringing laughter from you yet again and it’s strange how his heart seems to be memorising that melody and it’s small changes each time you do laugh— it’s a sound that for some reason he is subconsciously holding on to. When he does recall the reason for your disagreement (only because he suddenly became conscious of your hand pressing against his chest) does the frown return and to your amusement a pout rises on his face making you chuckle. “Let me comeeeeee.” He whines and you really have to wonder if this isn’t a child stuck in a man's body as the laughter rises from you like lapping waves.

Still. There’s something compelling about this particular man, tugging your mind like the needle of a compass drawing north, that eventually has you relenting.

Your hand on his chest moves to instead draw the material of his shirt into your hands and you drag him so close your noses bump. His eyes are wide and shaky and this close it appears as if you can see the way the sun burns against the cosmos. You ignore the awe filling you, how there is almost a need to sigh out how pretty his eyes are, to instead look between them with a firm look on your face. “Fine. But you stick with me. You don’t wander off. You don’t talk to anyone— hell you don’t make eye contact with anyone. Understood?”

Hongjoong feels paralysed; the air seems to freeze in his lungs and his tongue is numb and mute, unable to conjure the words that even his mind scrambles for. It’s only a simple yes, but your proximity, the way your eyes encapture all he’s witnessed you to be so far— strong, headfast, beautiful— leave him dumbfounded and the way every inch of you is so close, your lips a mere breath away, is playing havoc on his insides.

“Well?” You quirk a brow and Hongjoong finally manages to swallow the sandpaper feeling that scratches at his throat, blinking his pretty lashes rapidly when he gives a small nod of his head slowly.

“Yes, Captain.”

You take his breath with you when you turn away. A yelp breaks from his mouth, hand flying out to catch the hilt of the sword you just threw toward him.

“Good reflexes.” You note, almost sounding impressed if it wasn’t for the teasing smile on your face. “You might survive, yet.”

Hongjoong follows you off deck, staring warily at the wooden planks that feel as if they would fall apart at any moment. When he realises you’ve already taken to the head of the crew, he hastily moves to get beside you, your instruction to stick with you an echo in his mind.

“So, I take it, it isn’t a friend we’re going to see.”

Your lips quirk into a smirk. “He’s something like...a frenemy.” You say, clicking your fingers.

There’s a snort on the other side of you— the one who patched Hongjoong up, Seonghwa. He moves his head to stare at Hongjoong. “That ship of ours…. It was kind of his.” Hongjoong’s eyes widen and you look the opposite of nervous when you gleefully chuckle.

“I got it fair and square.” You say, sticking your chin out.

“And now he holds a grudge.”

“Hey, not my fault he can’t hold his rum as well as he claims,” You exclaim making Seonghwa chuckle, Hongjoong wondering just how much of a grudge this guy holds.

The crew pass under a stoney bridge and come into a marketplace. The smell of fish; shrimp frying, fresh catch bobbing in barrels of water waft into Hongjoong’s nose, turmeric and cloves and other spices tangling into a fragrant scent. There’s men and women at the stalls, each looking as rough as the last. You guide them through the market's path, coming to an alley of sorts and come out onto a small square of brick flooring, surrounded by four buildings.

“Oi.” Hongjoong follows your gaze to the owner of the voice. A man with dark hair fringing cattish eyes watches you, nodding his head toward the building behind him. Wordlessly you follow him in, but as you all approach the doors he holds a hand out. “Just you.”

You laugh. “Not even a hello and then this, San? You lot that scared of us?”

The man, San, scowls, narrowing his thin eyes, making him look even more menacing. “Don’t get smart— get your ass inside.”

Within seconds your blade is at his throat, too quick for the man to register and with your movement in sync, your crew has their swords raised threateningly toward him. You tip his head further back with your blade and step closer to him.

“I don’t know nor do I care how you speak to anyone else, but you show some fucking respect with me.” His gulp is visible, the move pressing the blade further against his skin and Hongjoong thinks the man is smart to look fearful.

“Understood.”

When you withdraw your sword, you move him aside, throwing a wait here to the rest of the crew, Hongjoong frowns, eyes flitting over to Seonghwa’s. “Should we be letting her go in alone?”

Seonghwa’s eyes move toward Meli who looks as aggravated as Hongjoong’s starting to feel. “Not really. But Captain's orders.”

The brick corridor is dark and dusty, filled with the smell of burning incense. The odd silence is what has your fingers curling tighter around your sword's hilt, booted feet moving along the worn concrete carefully.

Just as you reach the end of the hallway, a waft of air hits your face as something unmistakably cuts through the darkness and reflectively your sword comes up, the inevitable clash of metal echoing around you.

Everything happens so fast— your hand grips the jaw of the stranger and shoves them back till their head collides with the wall and bounces off roughly, your feet moving with the sound of their groans fading behind you. Moving into a room, the light shines through a broken roof bearing the gritty floor and old wooden crates piled around, but there’s no time to take in the emptiness of the room when two men appear this time. In an instance your leg kicks out and jams your boot into the stomach of one ruffian, your sword swinging down to clash into the others— you both grunt, both hands around your swords hilt as you try to push back, ultimately releasing as you step back panting heavily. He growls, surging forward again with a cry, but he’s sloppy, down with a simple headbutt, the resulting crunch not even making you wince as you watch him howl in pain on the floor.

When you go to move, footsteps crowd around you— your eyes scour the entrances now filled with more ruffians, smirks of malice painted on their faces. You scoff, giving your own smirk.

“C’mon then.”

Outside, Hongjoong is becoming restless. “Isn’t she taking too long? Don’t you think we should go in?” Teeth gnawing at his bottom lip has made the flesh sore, so now he’s resorted to biting his nails.

Seonghwa gives him a disapproving look, lowering his hand from his mouth, lips drawing closer to Hongjoong’s ear. “There’s a reason she’s our Captain. Just trust her,”

Hongjoong frowns. If there’s one thing that he has been berating himself for in the very short time he’s come to know you, it’s that he does somewhat trust you. And he hasn’t decided if that's a good thing yet or not.

San leans against the door, picking his nails with the tip of a dagger and it makes Hongjoong grimace. He turns to say something to Meli only to notice she’s gone and then he notices that Oddeye has gone too. Before Hongjoong can say anything, Seonghwa’s back in his ear. “Easy… San is sharper than he looks.” The mention of the man draws Hongjoong’s eyes back onto him; he’s still doing the same thing as before, meticulously cleaning the dirt beneath his nails, but that doesn’t mean he’s not listening out for their whispers, that he’s not prepared to become hostile (as if he was very welcoming from the start).

Inside, every inch of your body is on alert. Your chest heaves with apprehension, eyes focused to the point they look crazed. Men circle around you and it’s as if their grimy hands are pressing against your skin already with how your back has locked up with tension.

At last, their thunderous cries spill into one chaos of echoes bouncing off the stoney walls, feet stampeding crowding over the sound, swords finally clashing. Your sword comes up and rebounds the three men coming at you, teeth gritting as you exert yourself, another sword being pulled from its holster swinging around you to defend your back. Crouching high and low, manoeuvring left and right, fists and metal, you fight off each man until that particular one shows his face.

He comes in all haughty, simply whistling to get the remainder of his men to stand down. The smirk on his face irritates you and you have half a mind to actually gut someone today— you don’t fail to notice how each of them were careful to not fatally injure you, but that doesn’t ease your annoyance any less.

The heavy leather boots he wears echoes with each step, his overly large hat tilted in a way that only bares his nose down, casting him in villainous shadow. At long last he looks up.

“I’ll show you how it's done.” Though he’s regarding his men, his eyes remain locked to yours.

You scoff, his men scuttling back like cockroaches, leaving the both of you encircled. “Still being a sore loser?” The boredom seeps into each word, a single brow lazily raised at him.

He merely shrugs, eyes widening manically, lips stretching into a menacing smile. “Maybe I just want to see you bleed.”

With that his arm comes down heavy with his sword, a move you easily block, grunting as your feet bear the weight you need to push back against him. He jumps back when you swing your other sword at his belly, a cackle of joy disturbing the air.

“Oh ho ho, very good.”

You grit your teeth, growling out “fuck you,” Ducking, you swing your leg out knocking him from under his feet. With the wind knocked from him, he groans, back smacking the concrete; the shadow of your sword falling across him like a slap, soon awakens his senses and sends him rolling away from the wrath of your metal. Your feet make fast to follow him, swinging down again and missing by mere inches. Rolling back to his feet, he surges forward, clangs and clashes, you evade one another with skillful swordship, cutting the air but not each other.

Until.

“Ah, fucker.” One of your swords falls away from your hand, the shallow wound prickling with your blood that slithers down your fingers, pitter pattering to the floor in steady drops.

“Ha! Finally I—” Making a run toward him, the momentum allows your leg to wrap around his neck and you swing, digging your knee into his back until he falls to his knees, your leg sliding from around him as you yank him back by his hair and press your sword to his throat.

He starts laughing nervously.

“OH! My dear friend, why didn’t you say that was you?” When you growl his laughter dies. “Alright, alright. May I remind you that I have you surrounded right now?”

“Do you now?” The dryness of your tone has him on alert and before he can so much as blink

the walls around you all burst forth harshly, bringing forth dust as it crumbles around you.

Meli and Oddeye stand back, the spears used for combustion charred within the stone scattered atop some of the men. And coming through with a disgruntled San, arms secure behind his back, are the rest of your crew, swords drawn.

“Now, that was a little over the top don’t you think?” He shrills, throwing his hands out.

“Getting your whole crew on my arse wasn’t?”

“Fine.” He grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Consider us even. Now what can I do for you?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“I might have heard rumours.” He teases, smirking in that way that makes you want to throw your fist at his face.

“You owe me.”

“Always straight to business with you.”

“You could always get straight on my sword, Woo.”

He whines like a petulant child, stomping his feet and barking at his men to clear up the mess. “Follow me.” He says begrudgingly.

“I’ll be back.” You sing-song, following Wooyoung down a corridor.

You come into his shabby excuse for an office. Its resemblance is closer to a raided building. Wooyoung grabs for a bottle of dark liquor, wipes across his mouth with his sleeve, then hands it to you as he walks across the room.

There’s a cage covered with a simple cloth and your eyes marvel at the sight when he reveals what it holds.

Smiling, you crouch down and eye the little creature, cooing when they make tiny squeaks. Too small to produce any real sound let alone fire.

“So you’re set on making the journey, then?”

“Of course. Why? Wanna come?”

He laughs. “When I have a death wish friend, I shall join you.”

“What if we make it?”

“What if you don’t?” He counters, pushing his hair back with a huff. “You piss me off, but that doesn’t mean I—” Wordlessly, he grabs the bottle from your hands and takes another hefty swig.

“Aw, is that care I hear in your voice, Woo?”

He looks at you then. No pretences. No tease, no smart-remarks, or banter. “Yes. It is care for my friend. I worry.”

Not expecting this soft show from him, you can only laugh. Standing from your crouching position, it’s your turn to grab the bottle and down the liquor.

He smiles. “But you’ve made up your mind.”

“But I’ve made up my mind.” You affirm, nodding.

He sighs, then moves to grab a small empty cage. Unhooking the tops of the large one and carefully pulling forth one creature and placing it within its new (shitty excuse) for a home. “Well then I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, friend. See you on the other side.”

As you go to walk away, Wooyoung gives you one last piece of advice. “It would be good to consult them about your travels. Perhaps they know something.”

—

You were quiet the whole way back to the ship. Wooyoung's words run in your mind over and over and as much as you hate to admit it, it might be a good idea.

Placing the covered cage on the deck, Hongjoong’s the first to ask what it is. And upon unveiling the important thing you required for your journey, you smile.

“It’s an aura dragon. Perfect age to not be a menace to us, but brilliant at sensing danger. Their scales change to signify how safe somewhere is. I’m planning to circle the island with it before we enter. We’re lucky to get a hold of one— they’re extremely rare.”

“Not to mention expensive.” Meli sighs.

“A few pigs isn’t bad.” You laugh.

“But soon we will be back to having fish for weeks.”

You only roll your eyes at her, recovering the cage and pushing it in her direction.

“See to it that our new crew member is made comfortable, please.”

“Ay, ay, Captain.” She says sarcastically, taking the cage and disappearing below deck.

You turn to head to the helm, wincing as you limp, but pay it no mind. Hongjoong, however, notices.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Hongjoong scoffs, rolling his eyes and follows after you. “You’re clearly limping.”

“And?”

His brow quirks then screws together in a frustrated frown. “What do you mean and? Let me see.”

“Unnecessary. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Want me to get Hwa instead?”

Your back grows rigid as you come to a halt. Head turning slow, eyes dark and murderous when they land on him.

“Are you threatening me?”

His smile easily slips back. “Never. Just giving you a choice, Captain.”

“Should have left him in the damn sea.” You grumble.

“What was that?” He asks with an infuriating smirk.

“I said. Get on with it then.”

It’s a mere snag on your calf (to you— not a big deal) trailing round to just by your ankle, but Hongjoong analyses it with a face so serious as if he’s going to have to amputate your leg. He disappears for a moment and returns with a bowl of sea water and some rags (that are as clean as can be on the ship). Each of his movements are potent with the grace of the Gods— swirling the cloth in the water and then wringing it out, slim fingers draped with the cloth start to pad against the wound, eyes concentrated with his mouth rounded as he gently blows air over it.

You try not to watch him. Forcing your eyes to the horizon to keep up your annoyance, but you can’t help but to drift back to his face.

You’re used to Seonghwa doing this, or even yourself. Hwa would usually scold you or be very medical about it all, but scanning and feeling his gaze and hands be all careful feels very different to those times.

He finishes by wrapping a cloth around your leg (that you don’t think is really necessary, but it’s done now) and ties it off.

“You know one day you’re not just gonna get hurt— it’ll be worse.”

You shrug with a small smile. “We all gotta die someday. At least when I go out, it will be an adventure.”

—

Morbidness of death stifles the greying air. The waters are unsteady here, as welcoming as the damned it harbours. It’s an effort for the crew to keep their legs steady when watery arms disguised as waves heaves itself against the underside of the ship, rocking it roughly along the surface. Jagged rocks duck and appear in the water, scraping against the sides only aiding in the oceans onslaught.

And of course, it’s raining.

“Captain, we spotted the cove.”

“Prepare to make anchor!” Your command echoes amongst the crew, each scrambling for ropes and manning the capstan, yet your eyes are far away, focused on the whispering fog blanketing the desolate mountain you’re nearing.

It’s not nostalgia, but an almost foreign apprehension that overcomes you.

“Captain, are we to bring the full crew?” Oddeye questions.

A smile that doesn’t reach your eyes finds its way onto your face and Hongjoong’s watchful eyes notice.

“We are to bring none of the crew. I shall be making the trek alone.” You inform, slinging a satchel over your shoulder.

“But Captain the grae—” Meli starts to protest.

“They won’t harm me. I think. But I’d rather you lot not be leverage for my potential torture.”

“Filling me with confidence here.” She quips, exasperation clear in her voice.

Teeth bare into a grin at your first mate, your hand falling heavy on her shoulder. “Fret not, Meli. For once, this isn’t unknown territory. If I shant return, you know what to do.”

“Why wouldn’t you return?” That voice, usually enriched with the sweet spill of ripe berries, cracks through the air like an oil lit fireball spat at its enemy. Surprise fills you upon noticing the hardness of his usual honey-warm eyes, the brown splintered like cracked bark, the shards cutting into you the longer he stares. You hope your laugh will dispel the sudden edge in the air, but Hongjoong seems determined with his gaze set firmly on you. “Why wouldn’t you return.” He repeats gruffly.

“There’s always a chance of no return. Whatever the voyage.”

“So why go alone?”

Sighing, irritation makes your brow twitch. Squaring your shoulders, you regard him with your chin upturned, authority radiating from you. “Because I am the Captain and I decided that.”

He has you surprised yet again. Because rather than backing down as you’re so used to people doing with you, his soft demeanour completely dissipates, features now moulding into something far more calculating and rebellious— the curls that you thought looked cute at the edges of his lips stretch with his smirk, his eyes darkening like the sun eclipsing the world and he scoffs a humourless laugh. “Good thing you’re not my Captain then. I’m coming.” From him there is a fire burning away in the depths of his orbs, and from you, a cataclysmic tide waiting to engulf him whole.

“Brace yourselves!

The stare off breaks, no chance for words when the ship violently jerks and sends you falling— in an instant Hongjoong leans towards you, encircling his arms around you and turns, a grunt leaving his lips when his back hits the hull. The ship is carried by a rough wave, tilting the boat and forcing your body further against his. You can barely register the closeness when you’re scowling at him, a storm still simmering under your skin at his nerve to defy you.

“I’m the one who is protecting you.”

His eyes draw low as does his face until his nose nudges against yours and it’s still not the closeness of your bodies that you register, but rather its the intensity of his eyes that feel as if the ropes of your ship have gone rogue and taken a life of their own to knot around you and bring you into their captivity.

“All the more reason I should go with you, no?” Then, his eyes move from your line of sight, but only so his lips can whisper into your ear with a lovers intimacy, sending the storm under your skin to your suddenly fragile heart, to encase within, the pressure of the winding sea thrashing inside seeming to want to have it breaking apart like a dam. “Who will protect me, if not you?” Your head turns to stare at him, his own head tilted, breath spilling against your skin and before you can even find some sort of words, the ship levels out with a heavy smack against the water, sprays of the ocean raining onto the decks.

Cold air slicing against your cheeks is the wake up call you need to break out of— well, you don’t even know what to call that, only know that you need to put some space between you both right now. Your hand presses against his surprisingly firm chest, ready to push him away, but again he has surprise instilling in you when his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping your palm against him. “I’m coming.” He says with a finality in his voice, releasing your wrist as he walks away.

There’s a curious heat where his fingers once were, one that lingers and makes you feel as if he still had them wrapped around your wrist.

Your lips set into a firm line, sight set on his retreating figure, following until he disappears below deck. Turning swiftly, you take note of the look Meli gives you.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” But the smirk on her face seems to be saying something.

You’re in no mood to pull it out of her (though you have an inkling of what it is she finds so amusing), grabbing the arm of a crewmember passing by. “Ready the tender.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

“So, he’s going with you, I take it?” Retraining your eyes on Meli, you can’t even stop your eyes from rolling.

“I guess so.” You mumble.

“By Olympus, I never thought I’d see the day.”

A scowl. “What.”

“Just never thought I’d see the day you relent to someone”

“I’m not bloody rele—”

“Boats ready, Captain.”

You leave Meli with a disgruntled expression, the face of her stifling her laughter burning into your mind. The deck moans beneath your feet, the sea howling at you as you near the light boat. You stumble when even with the ship anchored, the rough waters manage to knock the ship sideways, and before you can fall, a hand is steady at your shoulders, keeping you upright.

Hongjoong.

A quick scan of his body shows the addition of a sword, the hilt recognizable with a lotus and a single eye engraved in it— a parting gift from a certain one-eyed pirate's daughter. With a frown your eyes move to seek out the man one could say you consider as your own father. Once they land on him, you spot the sheepish look on his face, which you meet with your own betrayed expression. You jump when warm breath suddenly falls against your ear.

“He said it’s good luck.” Hongjoong drawls lowly from behind you.

You barely turn your head to regard him when you hotly ask “do you even know how to use that thing?” A gasp falls from your lips at the touch of cold metal against your throat, Hongjoong’s satisfied smirk in your provisional igniting a fire within you.

“Isn’t this familiar? How's it feel to be on the other si—agh...” You look down at Hongjoong groaning on the floor, his eyes squinting up at you standing over him with the rain falling around your head and spilling drops onto his cheeks.

“I’m leaving.” Is all you gruffly say, urging Hongjoong, with a pained groan, to roll over and hastily follow you onto the small boat.

It rocks with his weight when he sits. The scowl on your face makes his near breathless laugh fall away with the wind, his eyes not leaving yours as you’re both lowered onto the water. There’s a look of concentration and strain when you start to row, the oars weighing heavier when the tides are rough and pushing against you. Grunts pass through your gritted teeth, the skin around your knuckles stretching taut under your grip of the oars, shoulders rolling and heaving with each push against the water.

Even as it rains, with the clouds a cluster of grey gloom, Hongjoong can’t help but to admire you. Drops trail down your face, some pooling at your lashes, others tracing the curve of your lips and falling off your chin. There’s a fierceness in your eyes, a determination as you row to shore, your strength not merely physical but an unseen part of your very being. He’s met many strong people, women included, in his life, especially as the son of a Muse, yet something strikes in his heart as if you are leaving a mark there, that makes him think you are different, yet he has no clue what that something is.

His heart jumps multiple times whenever the boat rocks as if it will overturn, the lapping waves climbing up the sides and filling the inside of the boat. Giving a pointed look to Hongjoong, he gets the message and grabs for the wooden bucket and starts to shovel out the water.

A rock hiding in the rough waters drives your boat upwards sending you crashing forward. You yelp as your knees scrape against the rough wooden surface. Hongjoong’s hands reach out to steady you, but you’re already hauling yourself back upwards with a strained groan, not stopping lest you lose momentum, getting closer and closer to the shore. He stares at you, eyes moving to your hands and with the downpour it’s hard to notice, especially as the water dilutes and washes away the colour, but he soon realises the harsh grip you have on the wood of the oars has grated roughly against your skin, made them sore and bloody with its burn. As soon as the boat slides onto the pebbly shore, Hongjoong stops you before you can stand with a gentle grip on your wrist. You watch curiously as he tears at his own shirt, pulling the fabric into strips and then takes hold of your hands. There's an unfamiliar stutter in your chest, one that makes your heart feel out of place in your own body when he turns your palms upwards and you finally take notice of your own wounds.

Even with the iciness of the rain piling onto your palms and pooling in its dip, there’s an unmistakable warmth swimming up your bloodstream to circulate all over when his fingers delicately balance your hand between you both. With care he wraps one strip of his torn shirt around your hand, placing it down on your lap gently before taking hold of your other. You watch him the entire time, strands of his hair sticking together, water flicking off the ends to trail down his face, one down the bridge of his nose pooling at his philtrum, another flicking off his long thick lashes and trailing under his eye like the mimic of a tear. His eyes are downcast, concentrated on carefully tying the material off into a messy bow and as he curls your fingers back into your palm slowly, as if returning your hand to you, your eyes meet.

How many times will he feel the need to mend my wounds? For the second time he has come to your aid — has touched you with foreign care as if you are fragile and as if you need his care.

Your surroundings seem to be swallowed by something, because suddenly the sound of the rain pelting against the howling sea is lost to your ears, the ghoulish whistle of the wind is nowhere to be found, nor is the callous whip it brings against your skin. The rain doesn’t seem to bear down on you anymore, there is nothing but him it seems.

And for him, there is nothing but you.

The sound returns in a loud chaotic collision that knocks you from whatever spell you seemed to be under. Clearing your throat, you stand to your full height and look down at him. “Let’s get going then.”

Passage to your destination isn’t so much a dangerous one (surprisingly), as it is a long one. There are multiple trails that can lead to everywhere except where you need, meaning it's easy to get lost (and then end up in a dangerous situation), meaning you need to know the exact trail to take.

Luckily (or not) you’re very familiar with these paths, a map of its maddening maze etched into the fibres of your brain for as long as you could remember.

Wordlessly you reach behind you and settle Hongjoong’s hands on your hips. “Don’t let go. It gets really foggy and if you get lost here, there’s a chance you’ll be wandering until the end of your days.” His throat starts to feel rough like cracking land under the sun as it becomes dry. He tries to swallow the sensation away, but the mere feel of your skin, even with the barrier of your shirt, has the very tips of his fingers, each ridge, overly sensitive— receptive— to you, and again, he doesn’t know what to make of that.

Not allowing the ever-rising question to plague him further, he distracts himself. “It sounds like you’ve been here before.” He muses, not really expecting much conversation to come from it until you chuckle.

“Something like that.” You muse, the mystery in your voice peaking his curiosity.

“It’s rare to have travelled to the Graeae’s layer once, let alone a second time.”

You hum amused. “This will definitely be more than a second time.” Your reply has his head shooting up, the move tipping his balance and sending him backward. Your hand curls around his wrist, keeping him mostly upright. “Careful. You don’t want a death as boring as ‘slipped and cracked my head open’.”

You nearly laugh when he latches onto you tighter, if not for the acute awareness of his fingers digging into you like a lover seeking refuge. Eyes seek out the path ahead in hopes to (like Hongjoong) remove the strange feeling clouding your mind suddenly. Moving along the slated mountain wall, your fingers trace the grooves in the rock until you brush against a familiar symbol, snakehead. Stopping, you feel around until you come in contact with a vine. Pulling on it, you make sure that it’s still strong before speaking to Hongjoong. “I’ll go first. You won’t be able to see me still, so listen to my instructions carefully.” Keeping one hand on the vine, you take hold of his other and press it against the engraved symbol. “Feel that? From precisely here you wrap your hand around this vine. Then your other directly under that hand— that’s number two. Count exactly twenty-seven down, got it? Twenty-seven. Don’t count your feet, count your hands. You’ll come onto a thin ledge against the mountain much like this, it's far narrower so watch your step.There’s multiple ledges so you must count carefully.” You stress. ”Don’t let go of this vine until you can feel the one going across. I have to count exactly once I’m down there so I can’t wait for you, there won’t be enough space, but face sideways, one foot in front of the other and count eighteen steps. Okay? Count your feet that time. Then you’ll reach a crawl space— I’ll go in first. Like the ledge there are multiple holes you could go through, choose the one wrong and you risk death. You have to pull the blackest vine to get it open— but be careful or you could fall.” Then you mutter, suddenly anxious, “fucking hell, I really shouldn’t have let you come,” then louder, “maybe you should go back to the boat.”

Immediately, he goes against your words. Giving you a stern look that you can’t even see, he repeats the instructions back to you. “I’m not leaving you.” He says with finality in his voice. “Now if you don’t want to be here any longer, I suggest we get a move on.”

You can’t even argue. While you’re overly concerned for Hongjoong — this fawn of a Demi-God who you believe could die from a simple bug bite — he is right that you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.

So with a sigh, you whisper good luck and start your descent.

You forgot how disorientating it could be here— hands tightly latched onto the wet vine, you fight to concentrate on your counts whilst the heavy fog literally fogs your senses. Not being able to see and having to merely rely on instinct and the touch of the vine is unnerving and midway your worries for Hongjoong and how he will manage start to form.

Quick to shake the image of him in your head, you remind yourself to worry about you and keep count.

Sweat beads your hairline, teeth grinding in their clench as you use all the strength you have to keep that precise grip on the vine.

There’s little relief when you finish counting and reach the ledge, immediately seeking the next guide.

“YOUR TURN.”

There’s a queasiness in your stomach when you start to walk across. You forgot how anxious this place makes you. How weak.

You thought you’d never have to return here, but I guess the Gods really aren’t that kind.

That anxieties only heightened upon wondering how Hongjoong’s doing. You haven’t heard any untimely falls to death, or any cries of distress — yet. But it’s eerily quiet apart from the continuous onslaught of rain and wind whipping, so there’s no way to really tell how he’s doing and that makes you uncharacteristically nervous.

The rain has made everything all the more unsteady, your legs quivering in their effort to stay firmly in line as you walk along the ledge up until you’ve counted down to the last step. You can barely tell there’s a hole before you; vines heavily shroud the opening and the rain makes it hard to search for the right one when the waters darkened them all. Pulling at the blackest, you send a quick prayer that it’s the right one and tug as hard as you can on it.

It’s then that the rest of the vines slither away unveiling the entrance to the Graeae’s cave.

Grunting, your sore hands twist around the vines, experimentally tugging before you use it to start hauling yourself up and crawl through the muddied space. Beetles and ants and the like crawl past you, forearms disturbing the soil and discolouring your faded white shirt until you stop halfway to look back.

Minutes seem to pass and with that your breaths grow laboured, Usually you’d go on, not second guessing, but each part of you seems frozen, apprehensive as pleas voice over and over in your head and you debate going back.

Just as you start to shift backward, the vines start to unravel and there’s a slither of light. Now you’re breathing in relief, waiting another moment until you’re sure Hongjoong’s coming.

“You good?” You call out, the echo making you cringe.

“Yeah.” He calls back.

Wordlessly you turn back around and resume crawling. Hearing his grunts and the occasional ugh surely upon spotting all the bugs and sinking into the mud, makes you feel relieved, almost amused.

But as soon as you reach the end of the crawl space, that humour dissipates and that familiar dread and anxiety clogs at your throat and you swear you could throw up right now.

Carefully, you drag yourself until you’re kneeling and can stretch your leg out. Keeping hold of a vine, you start to lower yourself until your feet touch those familiar cold stone floors. Hongjoong following suit not long after.

“Now what?” He whispers as soon as he lands.

“Shh.” You say sharply, eyes adjusting to the ghoulish darkness.

Taking hold of his wrist, you keep to the cave walls and carefully start to lead him.

The Graeae sleep much of the time and waking them suddenly is asking for a beheading. So each step is calculated, even aware of how your own breath could be startling.

Afterall you don’t know what goodies they have in store.

Unlike their official status of being monsters in exile, the Gods have shown to favour them — a favour for a favour.

Perhaps Hades has gifted them one his loyal hounds to guard their shitty fortress. Or mayhaps a wicked disorienting prison of walls built by Hephateus. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the messenger God Hermes has offered his tricks to them.

Though, you seem to have forgot that the Graeae — old, conniving and viscous — are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves without such gifts and trickents, because you feel the slightest draft atop your head, barely able to suck in a breathe when you look up and hanging above you—

“Wellllll,” the voice grates, husky and raw like a voice box left to form organically under the sun, “look what treat has decided to drop in.”

Every muscle you’ve honed to react swiftly has become null under the silhouette of the youngest Grarea. Her breath washes over you like the stench of corpses sitting in humid air. You can’t even get yourself to recoil. Completely frozen.

It’s Hongjoong who pulls you back as her spindly limbs climb through the crack above, overgrown nails clawing into the walls as she moves like an abnormally giant spider until she can jump right in front of you.

“No hug for your mother?”

You feel Hongjoong tense behind you at the word — the word that makes bile rise up your throat.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“No?” She hacks, webs in her throat, coated in shadow. You’re not sure if you wish there was enough light in the room to see her. “Not here to steal again? Or have you finally come home?” Her head moves to the side and you can tell she’s peering at the man behind you. Suddenly, you feel protective and all the more stupid for bringing him. Standing straight, the muscles suddenly remember all they have learnt and guide your hand to your sword. “Oh?” that cackle is haunting, a taunt meant to bring dread. “Want us to meet our son in law?” Her laughter grows, wheezed and broken. “Bring him closer then.”

Her words are coated in slime, causing you to unsheathe your sword and hold it before you in warning.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” You repeat through clenched teeth. “I require the eye’s sight.”

Now she sneers. Hollowness filling with rage. “You dare to ask—”

“—I have the scroll. The one of your curse.”

She turns so still, that you can’t even hear the faint whistle of her breathe through her distorted neck.

Then she wraps her stone-dead knuckles on the floor over and over, so hard you almost want to stop her in concern she’s hurting herself.

Silence.

Empty space, everything swallowed into nothingness to the point numbness seeps in. Something cracks and now your ears ring, like something explosive burst in your ears, an endlessly piercing sound.

Next your vision sways, dark spots amongst even darker spots throwing your whole balance off until there's a feeling of free falling— that sensation when you're on the cusp of slipping into sleep but your consciousness isn't ready to be quietened just yet and you're plummeting, plummeting until—

Gasp.

Steadily. Everything returns to you steadily. Air rushes around you and cocooned in that freshness the beat of your heart bounces around.

Air hisses out, the cocoon of air dragging away sharply and with it the ringing closes around a fist stopping its sound completely.

The first thing you register is your heavy panting. The next is the tight grip you have on Hongjoong’s hand. Blinking, your head snaps back to see the same dazed look on his face.

Scouring the surroundings, you note the rods of fire mounted roughly to the cracked walls. Along its surface are grooves of various shapes and patterns, almost artistic for the layer of the things deemed monsters.

Right. The monsters.

From the walls two more creatures slither out.

Rolling like white foam of the sea, then come unto the ground, spearing swift like the unforgiving sea until their bulbous greying faces are reared at yours.

“Child of ours!” They both shriek, snapping their heads left and right.

Ancient should not mistake one for thinking these are mere senile bugs to be squashed beneath one's feet. No. The eldest of the Graeae, in size and in their intimidating aura, are a force to be reckoned with.

Smaller than giants, bigger than even a large man, Deino and Enyo raise themselves by their heavy necks to their full height, like a pair of overgrown tumours on legs, limbs that are not spindly as many would think, but bubbled with lumps of skin grown over skin, heavy.

Deino — the eldest — has the tooth wedged into the snout, once her mouth, and bobs her heavy head back and forth above you.

Enyo’s loose skin beneath her chin drags across the floor, sweeping back and forth as she excitedly jerks this way and that.

Taking a deep breath, you grip Hongjoong’s hand and have him follow your movements into a bow. Upon touching him, you realise that just maybe you are thankful for his presence. Though you will never admit that aloud.

“Oh great Graeae, bless me with your sight and I shall make it worth your while.”

Silence greets you. Not even their loose skin flapping, or their incessant gummy clacking can be heard.

And then you recoil at their thunderous laughter, echoing volcanically in the cave. It’s such a haunting sound, but to you it’s familiar and your eyes squeeze shut as memory upon memory of such laughter being shared with you growing up flashes in your mind.

The most wicked play of a lifetime. One that would amuse Kings and Gods alike.

Standing tall, you jerk back when Enyo instantly lowers and you feel the cold of her finger tip your chin back and though she has no eyes, staring at her twisted face has your heart stilling.

Deep, unearthly, ghoulish, she asks “Is the boy the exchange?” Before she can turn her attention fully to Hongjoong, you step in front of him.

“I think our child is wedded.” Phemphredo tinkers, a child-like eeriness behind her giggle.

“I already told you—” You hesitate, huffing, “—mothers. I am here for the eye and the eye alone. This man is none of your concern. But know that he is under my protection. Let that be your only warning.”

“Oh, I only tease.” Phemphredo caws, huffing in her own way. “Daughter of ours claims to have the scroll.”

“The scroll.”

They echo, unnaturally waving their bodies around. A sight of glee.

“Show us.”

“Yes, show usss.”

“You know how this works. Part of the prophecy and then proof of goods.”

They skitter and grunt annoyed, swarming before you in their tantrum.

“Taught the child too well.” Enyo hacks.

“Mother is proud.” Pemphredo chitters, moving closer to you and tiptoeing her boiled claws along your unsheathed sword.

Deino, however, is less amused. With her fat tongue against the roof of her mouth, she sucks in sharply, gums bared and even her sisters have the sense to quieten down.

“Child of mine, I have dreamed of your return. And every dream your fate has never been the same. How long have you withheld the scroll from us until you deemed us necessary for your use again?”

There is a reason that Deino is associated with dread. The absence of her eyes… the complete empty blackness in her toothless semblance of a mouth… the corpse-come-to-life of her movements, dead, but full of something dark and daunting… you can feel every ounce of her disdain and if, and only if you were not their child, you would feel the air being sucked into your lungs and refusing to leave, drowning in that dread she so easily conjures.

But for you, this is just another bedtime whisper in lieu of a normal goodnight.

“Mother, you never had to dream of me to remind me that my fate hung in your callous hands. Now, I’m on a schedule so let’s get on with it, hm?”

The silence lingers and when at long last, she merely tuts, the sisters seem to understand because they turn into each other and whisper rapidly. You see Pemphredo reach into her side — literally into her side — and bare the eye.

The three place their hands together over it and ghoulishly chant, words sharp whispers and a nonsensical cacophony.

Part of you. A very small part softens at the sight before you. Because you know that your mothers would never turn their back to a visitor, lest they stick something in their back.

And you realise that this display means they still have some trust for you. Maybe even love. Or their version of it.

And you realise that maybe you do too.

Feeling choked up, you clear your throat, shaking your head and inhale deeply, standing straighter. Caught up in this reunion, you forget Hongjoong’s presence until a hand on your back makes you jump. Glancing over, his eyes face forward, trained on the Graeae, but that doesn’t stop the slow circles he rubs into you comfortingly. And unwillingly, your body relaxes into him. So much so that when the Graeae suddenly turns around you jump a little, tensing all over again.

“Death. But not written in stone.” Enyo begins, chin wagging along.

Pemphredo gleefully waves forward, distorted face holding an even more distorted smile. “A hook to decide. Made by him.

“Yesss by himm.” Enyo echoes.

“Hephaestus. Blacksmithhh. Creator of weapons. A hook to guide you through the fog of those Isles' dearest daughter.” Deino hollowly breathes out.

Of course, there was no need to tell them where you would be going. They saw for themselves.

Deino approaches you, staring upon your face as if she could actually see. And maybe she could, in an instance gripping your cheeks tightly, she leans closer to your ear. “Dangeroussss path. Even mother would be unhappy to see you go to the underworld so soon.” releasing, her head jerks back and she swiftly turns to face her sisters. “The scroll?”

True to your word, reaching into your satchel, the book is brought forth. Holding it out, Enyo snatches it and like a pair of children fighting over the last piece of bread, they smack into each other's sides, hissing and drooling to read it first.

“Childdd. Just because you have a way out doesn’t mean you willl. Things await there that even the eye cannot seee. Things that could mean the end of you.”

You’re not sure what to say. Staring at the backs of their heads wrapped up in a strange sensation of foreign familiarity.

So you don’t say anything. Merely take hold of Hongjoong’s wrist and turn to leave through the crawl space you used to leave… last time.

“I suspect this willll be the lassst time we seee you. Deathhh or nottt.”

Unsure of why — maybe the nostalgia, maybe the longing — but you throw a “maybe for my birthday.” over your shoulder and continue on your way.

“Tell the child the ressssst.” Pemphredo urges.

And before you can ask exactly what is the rest, Enyo bounds forward heavily until a roughened hand grips the back of Hongjoong’s shirt and heaves him above the ground, dangling him before you. Immediately, you spin, sword ready to cut through at a moment's notice.

And Enyo must notice the sudden bloodlust, because she cackles and tells you “be calmmmm child of mine. We won’t bring harm unto your little friend but! Be warned he is trouble — you best get rid of him. Mother will eat him if you so wishhh.”

Growling, you jab your sword against her armpit, not enough to pierce her tough skin, but enough to make her shriek back and drop Hongjoong.

“I’m just saying!” She hisses.

“She speaks the truth, child.” Deino affirms, keeping her back to you. “Trouble.”

“Trouble.” The others echo.

“Get rid of him and more than one problem will go — Love and Rhode.”

“Love and Rhode.” They chitter.

Road? Do they mean the path I’m to take? Always with their damn riddles.

She turns then. “Loveeee from Rhode, loveeee from you.”

Me? That makes you laugh. For real. “From me? Mothers, what love do I have?”

The smile to others would look horrifying. To you, that was one of the rare ones of warmth. “Keeppp him and findddd out. But get rid of him and be rid of Rhode.”

You finally leave with a scowl.

Love? Maybe the Eye really is on the blinker.

—

“What did they say?” Meli asks, hand curling around your forearm as she helps pull you up onto the deck. Seonghwa helps Hongjoong up and Meli’s question prompts you to look back at the man. Your brows furrow when you frown, averting your eyes and retraining your attention on Meli.

“Head a course for Clop Island.”

Her brows raise in surprise. “Okay. Why?”

She follows you to the helm, noticing the strange intensity surrounding you— it’s like the air around you has been pulled in to solidify in a crack of lightning and oozing black, leaving a shroud of darkness for you to carry. Taking your spyglass out, you distract yourself by looking off into the distance, even though it’s basically moot with how rough the waters are and the greying clouds dipping down to distort your surroundings. Meli narrows her eyes at you, wiping a stray droplet away when she comes up next to you.

“Y/n.” Whoops, your name, are you in trouble? “What did they say— why are we going to Clop island?”

Sighing you turn, moving around her to start heading the course yourself, hands gripping the ship's wheel. Except you forget this is Meli. As you move to steer, her own hand comes up to grip the wheel, a firm hold halting you from moving. Her pointed stare makes you sigh again.

“The odds are… more out of our favour than in. The giants can make us something to increase our chances, but even with that this could… be our last adventure. But isn’t that how we’ve been living? Like it's our last?”

She lets go of the wheel and frowns at you. “Exactly. And you know we would all die for you. If you know this, why have you got such a face? It can’t just be about that.”

Hesitance is written within your expression, buried in the fabrics of your skin, staining. The wood turns easily under your hands, eyes facing the horizon as you take the ship back out into more open water away from the watery-wench of this cursed place— the place you once called home.

“I’m not sure yet.” You mutter; the vague reply all you can really give her.

—

The journey to Clop Island takes a day and a half. You don’t sleep at all. Wading out of the waters of the Graeaes lair takes time and precision and with fog and darkness falling over you, it was time you couldn’t afford to waste, but had to. It felt like crawling through a swamp on your belly, gurgles of the unknown hiding below, the sharp teeth of rocks waiting to cut cut cut.

But in waters such as those, all it takes is a breakthrough. A stream of light parting the clouds and hitting the horizon, giving way for a direction of safety. Just as night hits you’re away from the foggy tomb and for but a while, you’re all on safer territory,

Even when you had come away, your hands refused to relent its steady grip on the wheel, the polished wood fusing with your flesh as if now a part of you. You’re not sure why you’re heaving the way you are— of course the task is strenuous and often leaves you exhilarated and breathing heavily — but you knew the niggling in your chest to get away was one of anxiety, the same poison you felt the first and only time you had departed from here.

Meli approaches. “Captain, I’ll keep us on cou—”

“No.” You don’t mean for your words to come as sharply as they do, but you need this feeling to go away, you need that knowledge that you’re where you’ve been for so long, you need the grounding of the sea. “I’m sorry, friend. Manage the sails for me. I’ll stay here.”

There’s that look in Meli’s eyes that lets you know she has noticed how tense you are, but again, she says nothing and leaves with a nod. The brief moment of being alone, gaze stretching out with the mass of the sea, finally has some of that pressing weight alleviating from your chest, allowing a shuddery breath to pass your lips. Pulling out your compass, the wheel turns under your hand in the direction you need, getting further and further away from where you once were, heading closer to where you need to be.

It’s odd how changed the air feels. As if aware that it’s away from the mangled decaying land of doom, now clear and fresh and filling your lungs with its purity.

You don’t realise how greedily you’re gobbling down that air, deep gulps swallowed down your throat, until a hand breaks you from the motions, heavy on your shoulder making your hair whip around.

The one person you really don’t want to see right now stands before you, and what’s worse is that damned expression on his face— concern.

“Are you alright, y/n?” You almost retch at the way he says your name. Those soft musical-like notes of his voice, that bloody telling God in him only has the voices of those you considered your mothers whispering love, love, love in your ears and it makes every inch of you sick to your stomach.

Love? Did the Gods not prove from the moment of your waking breath that you would know no such thing? Not from your birth parents, nor your surrogate parents and most certainly not this kind. Your new family that you gained after staining your life in blood are as broken as you— as unworthy of any good as you— you love each other brokenly because that is what you are.

So what does this Demigod of good think he’s doing showing you concern? It isn’t right.

“Yes. Leave me be, I have to concentrate.”

Though your eyes remain ahead, you feel the way he bristles from behind you. Lips part with his words dying on his tongue in confusion and soon he is frowning at the back of your head. But he puts your mood down to your fatigue. He wishes to tell you to rest. That sleep is needed after such a taxing journey, but he knows how stubborn you are. Something he has come to love and hate about you. So with that, he wordlessly retreats and you’re left to let out the breath you’ve been holding, begging your insides to be rid of this anxiety that deep down you know won’t fade as long as Hongjoong is still around.

—

“Right. As usual, be on your guard. The giants don’t take too kindly to strangers. Bring the stuff. You lot stay here. And you lot with me.”

“What about me?” Your tired eyes, already straining under the sun, strain even more when they lay on Hongjoong.

“Stay here.” You reply gruffly, already turning your attention elsewhere. “Make sure it’s secure, Astro. It’s gonna be a pain in the arse to carry. Leave the dragon. If Hephaestus is to help us, I don’t want him catching sight of our little friend and changing payment.”

As you move, Hongjoong’s hand shoots out and pulls at your arm. “Wait here? Let me come with you. I can help car— “

“No.”

He is taken aback for but a moment, until that same assertiveness fills his eyes when he convinced you to let him travel with you to the Graeae. He doesn’t count on your indifference though. Your eyes cold and voice even chillier when you move nose to nose.

“You are under my care and I am telling you that you will not be coming until I say you can.”

“I am under your care, but I am not one of your crew that you can just—”

“BY THE GODS HONGJOONG.” Everyone falls silent at your rage, Hongjoong’s eyes wavering under your heated stare. “You are very careless and seem to not mind that if you are to die or come to harm under my care that that means trouble for us.” A crack forms in his heart at that— us — a line you have just drawn between Hongjoong and all of you, the people who he has come to see as friends.

“What do you mean?” He whispers.

“What I mean Demigod,” oh, that hurts— when was the last time you called him that and not his name? “Is that Hecate left her dear nephew under my care and if something were to happen to you, who do you think the Gods will turn their wrath unto?”

He frowns. “But… Hecate wouldn’t. Nor would the other Gods. Why would they?”

“Hecate wouldn’t, but the rest of them.” You scoff. “The Gods have used less reasons to spread their plague.” You step away, standing straighter and squaring out your shoulders. “You will stay here. Even if I have to tie you to the damned mast myself.”

Silence settles over the crew, finishing preparations to head onto land with nervous glances between you and Hongjoong and once everyone is ready, you depart without sparing so much as a glance back at him.

Hongjoong watches the distance between you and him grow, feeling unnerved the further you went, as if you were really slipping away through his fingers.

Meanwhile, your sleep-deprived eyes strain among the treelines, peering through the dark shallows of the woods with your fingers curled tightly around the hilt of your blade.

Behind you, your crew grunts holding the case of precious metal to be given to Hepheataus as payment. They haul it uphill, feeling the dried mud slip beneath them soft like sand.

Each step is a reminder of how different this place is to that of the Graeaes land— where rough slate would lay, monotone and brittle, here stretches valleys of flora, the breeze billowing the sleeves of your shirt a soft greeting compared to the stabbing sharpness that swirled those gloomy mountainsides. The sweet scented blossoms that offered a reprieve, making a calm wash over you almost making you want to let your eyes fall shut and lay to rest on the grassy marshmallow ground, differs greatly to the stale air that only feels like each inhale is of a deadly poison.

Finally reaching the top of the slope, your eyes lay on the sight before you; two columns of trees, the aisle between it dusted with fallen leaves and stolen petals, a stream spills in a snake like formation around the tall trunks and leading down the aisle at the centre is a grand creation — one that speaks of a workmanship beyond that of a mere mortal.

The artistry begins at the floors, a circle embedded with a mosaic of rarities— emeralds and crystals and gems bringing about a ring of sparkling jewels to the feet that may be blessed to walk upon it. Standing tall on columns of gold intricately carved with opal figures dancing with wings on clouds, with a slab of smoothened wood balanced atop, is a sculptured giant carved of that same wood dauntingly shadowing over you all. The citron wood fragrance permeates to where you stand tracing each minute detail of the giant; armour moulded to look as strong as the wood, the crest of its shield bearing a wild beast, rustic silver draping down its back as a cape, with a sword of that same silver in hand, hilt a twist of ivory — every inch purposed to exude its value being beyond that of mere mortal coin, to grace those who might look upon it a chance to witness something that seems to have fallen from the heavens.

“Well. At least we know we’re at the right place.” Meli comments.

Not bothering to reply, you heed your crew a caution. “Don’t think about stealing anything. Remember, we’re here for their help.”

The giant seemed closer for it was that big, but the walk stretched into long minutes, the heavy chest of metal weakening your crew, drawing grunts and sweat. All the while you fight the sting in your eyes, the heat spurred by your movements sending you into further fatigue. Each bristle of breeze on leaves, each snap of twigs beneath a forest creature's foot, any rustle, any bird's caw sends your mind ablaze in overstimulation of sound, fighting to keep your senses keen while your body urges for rest.

You’re momentarily blinded by a stroke of sunlight burning your irises and suddenly you’re thinking of Hongjoong. Of him and his apollo-worthy smile and your fatigue sobers into rage. Your jaw clenches while you start to stomp ahead, with your brain, much like the sun on your eyes, burning that image of him at the forefront of your mind.

Behind you, the crew look on tiredly, even their tongues weighing down with that exhaustion preventing them from calling out after you to slow down.

But if you had slowed down and your senses were keen, without the stain of your needless rage, you wouldn’t have heard the arrow cut through the air like molten blade through rock.

Some would say you move as if you were the kin of Ares, God of War himself, gliding around like the moving winds, grace and sharpness, and swinging your sword to send the arrow ricocheting away from you.

“FUCK! TO THE TREES! CAPTAIN— Y/N.” Meli calls your name as you stand there staring back in the direction that the arrow came from, the rest of your crew scarpering for the tree line, leaving the chest abandoned in the middle of the path.

Sniffing, there is no linger of anything foreign in the air, but as you move your foot again, another arrow comes. You block it easily. That’s when you hear the subtle shift beneath your foot, the gravel crunching differently somehow. As you look, you frown to see you’re standing on some sort of contraception hidden amongst the dirt. Experimentally, you press down again, another arrow that you block coming.

“THERE’S SOME SORT OF WEAPON ON THE FLOOR TRIGGERING THE ARROWS. NO ONE’S HERE.” And though you shout the words, you’re careful to scan the surrounding woods, to listen out for anything else. “WE HAVE TO GO SLOW. WATCH YOUR STEPS.”

Gradually they come out from the trees, eyes scanning the floors while your head tilts back to stare at the enormity of the statue giant.

You can see why Hephaestus is considered a God of craft.

This time you wait for your crew to reach you before you move again, instructing Meli and Calista to watch the backs of those carrying the chest, now there’s this odd contraption to be wary of.

Studying each stone, scrutinising each ridge in the path, any cracks, anything out of place, your steps move slower and calmer, giving all your focus on weaving a safe path to the giant with your crew. And the moment you’re before the looming figure, you glance back in signal to wait. You lift the flap of your pouch, pulling forth a single golden coin, one of high value and move forward to place it on the large offering plate perched over the smoothened wood at the giant's feet.

Such a careless mistake of yours, to think that any danger would be over so soon— your foot lands on the grey step leading up to the offering plate, except the slab of stone grinds as it sinks under your weight until it completely locks completely flat in place.

Silence overcomes the surroundings, the most minuscule sound of the wind brushing along the scattered leaves even fading away to leave each of your souls holding its bated breath.

A chill that feels uncomfortably familiar runs up your spine, one that scars deeply as the sky seems to dull— a groan, heavy and thunderous, that soon turns into something ear piercing — the screech of metal — sends hands rushing to smother against ears and then the quaking of the ground comes, rumbling like the descent of a ten thousand army marching upon you all.

But this isn’t an army.

The Gods have wicked tricks indeed.

Urgency in your voice, a command to head for the treeline near tears your throat apart. Chest forgotten on the ground that rumbles and splits beneath your feet drives every one of your muscles to surge you forward faster, trying to remain steady as metal continues to groan and wood creaks and ache and then that droning hinge sounds out, languidly moving through the air casting a shadow over your stricken form staring up at another of the Gods beasts.

The giant’s metal foot lands heavy on the ground, compressing the earth, grounding it up into fine dust of destruction.

You’ve seen many things in your short lifetime— so much so, that you thought nothing would leave you frigid, boneless and unstaring with no logical thought or control of function over yourself to just run, yet now you are proven wrong..

The other leg rises, the iron that secured the wooden joints shrieking as it drags through the air almost in slow motion before your very eyes until it settles steadily on the ground.

And then it’s heavy head moans as it looks down. Directly at you,

Shit.

Those groans of heavy wood turning haunt your ears as it’s sword-wielding arm pulls back; the enormity of it casts the surroundings in chilling shadow and suddenly the total absence of warmth, of sun, pushes Hongjoong to the forefront of your mind once again, bringing forth blinding light, as if bringing his very own sun and it’s what snaps your body to attention— the metal sword starts to cut through the air as the wooden arm comes down heavily and all your instincts flare in a buzz under your skin; the unsteady floor is nothing compared to the rockiness of the ships deck, doing little to knock you on your feet as you rush beneath the giant, between its legs just as the end of its sword crashes down heavily, wedging deeply into the Earth. It breaks and crumbles away, gathering dust as its heaviness is lifted once more.

Taking advantage of its slowness you pull out your daggers stabbing it into its wooden leg and use it as leverage to start scaling its length. The giant lets out a deep wooden groan in confusion, bowing its body as it scours the dusty surroundings for you or anyone else. You grunt, the strain on your arms soon making them sore, each time you haul yourself up further, feeling the weight of the exertion on your shoulders. It’s when you’re halfway up the leg that the giant starts to move, loud rumbling steps along the broken up path.

Sweat limits your vision, your limbs trembling in exertion. The concern for your crew's whereabouts increases tenfold upon hearing Meli’s voice.

Everybit a warrior, in your place she leads the crew, commanding them to secure the giant's legs. No time to look back, you continue climbing, meanwhile Meli flings rope to the others, all of them working together to bind its legs together, grunting and feeling the rope burn their sweaty hands and their feet sinking into the ground as they strain to pull back and keep the rope secure.

It’s no use though, a simple swing tears the rope uselessly, the crew falling back.

“FALL BACK!”

“MELI!” You yell, reaching the giant's knee. “FIRE— NEED FIRE.” Gasping, she nods and orders them all back to the ship with her.

You need to keep the giant distracted from them.

On top of that you don’t know how long it will take for the crew to bring you what you need.

Think, think.

Everytime the Giant moves, its limbs make a horrendous yawn that hurts your ears. The metal holding it together grating and wait— metal… Iron…

Before the Graeae, you were mostly living out in the open and surviving the harsh nights meant needing to secure warmth. More often than not, that meant stealing blankets, or gutting larger forest animals, but one thing you picked up…

Wincing, your teeth grind into each other while you hang on with one arm, reaching behind you to draw an arrow. A special one. A lesson the Graeae taught you, was to always have a weapon for whatever foe. This particular arrow was meant to pierce the tough hide of Chimera, or a sea serpent, but the metal should spark the iron.

With effort, you tear at your shirt and wind it around the arrow and stab the arrowhead at the iron bolt over and over. The giant groans, sounding confused and looks down at you.

Shit.

At least you’ve stolen its attention.

More urgently, your hand brings the arrow downward against the iron, Letting out a squeal, the Giant raises its knee slightly as it brings its arm down, swiping at you, making you swing around, your back hitting the back of its knee. The groan you let out is pained when you haul yourself back up and hit again.

Over and over.

But nothing happens. And the giant is becoming wilder with its movements. Kicking its heavy leg out, almost in slow motion from how much it must weigh and the effort to just raise it.

Resheathing your dagger, you take a chance as its knee passes by a tree to jump. Your stomach collides painfully with a branch, winding you, but with no time to stop, the adrenaline keeps you going. Swinging a leg up until you’re steady, you hastily shuffle to the trunk and yell out.

“OI! WOODEN BEAST OVER HERE.”

The giant groans in reply, heavy head slowly moving to a turn, its body slowly following after. As soon as it spots you, its arm draws up and chops down. Timing the giant's movements, you yell out, jumping to the tree next to it. Your hands just about manage to hang on, grappling for the bark and grunting as you haul yourself up.

You’re not sure how long you can keep this up for. But if you disappear from its sight, you’re sure it will follow Meli and the other’s path.

The giant is smart, however, instead of bringing its arm down, it swipes across at the line of trees you’re in, knocking them over as easily as a child blowing on a dandelion.

Running out of energy, the strength it takes extending your body out to jump and roll to the ground as the tree falls has every part of your body protesting.

Bruised like a peach would best describe the state of your tired and rugged form right now. But you can’t stop.

Quickly, your eyes scour your surroundings, urging your brain to just think.

Think. As you roll this way and that, jumping out of the way of the giant's foot and swiping hand.

Running back towards its base, desperation has you searching for something, anything.

Your surroundings show none of the beauty it once was, now heavy in dust and ruined ground. The only thing intact, the steps leading to the circular path around the giant statue.

The mosaic…

The giant is slowly stomping its way over. You have mere seconds, eyes trailing the mosaic embedded with those jewels you spotted earlier. There’s a chance. A small chance.

Iron pirate. There.

Crouching down, you hastily lay the material wrapped around the arrow and spear the metal head against the mineral. Growling, each strike weakens your already tired body, but you urge yourself to keep going. Keep at it until a laugh of disbelief hacks up your throat at the sight of sparks.

They fizzle against your cloth, bit but bit until as the giant's shadow looms over you, it catches alight. Picking it up with the arrow you hold it in front of you and run aimlessly toward the giant, poking at its wooden feet. Woodenly groaning, it looks down, stumbling back.

It’s only a small fire, and if you’re crushed to death it won’t be much use, but the giant has enough sense to fear it. Its sword scrapes against the floor, tearing up its base as it draws towards you, but it's easy to step under the giant in its blind spot and press the fire against its leg.

The moans of pain almost sound real and you wonder how even a God could make a wooden being feel.

Unfortunately, that little bit of luck seems to be running out, when Meli and the others arrive with lit torches and the Giant wails, turning towards them.

Amongst the crew is Hongjoong.

When he sees your scraped and weak body stumbling beneath the giant, calling after it as its angry steps turn towards them, all he can think is that he wants to protect you.

No other thought required, he runs ahead of the others and you see him. In slow motion you see his dumb self running ahead and the giant’s foot drawing back ready to kick him away like he’s nothing but an annoying bug.

You trip as you yell his name, about to run to him. The fire burns weakly beside you, eyes in a daze watching the scene unfold.

Maybe though, luck hasn’t quite left you.

Just a sliver of light hitting something causing your eyes to squint at the sudden bright reflection.

The offering plate.

The distance between the giant and Hongjoong is closing. Fingers seek the coin you’d wedged in your pocket, until you feel its coolness and bring it forth before you in all its golden glory.

With a whisper of a prayer and a kiss, you throw the coin at the plate, watching how it slides through the air at the same moment the giant’s leg is swinging closer to Hongjoong — Hongjoong with such a wild look on his face, you almost smile, thinking how pirate-like he seems.

And then it clatters into the bowl, rolling around, spinning until it falls onto its side with a slow stop.

Silence.

So silent you can even hear the sound of your own breathing now.

And so still.

The giant seems suspended in its position. The suddenness has everyone but Hongjoong stopping. That fool ignores the damn giant and keeps on his path to you.

As he passes, he has to duck out of the way when the giant brings its foot back down and nearly hits him. As if none of you are there the giant mechanically turns, its steps shaking the ground as it turns back towards you. Eyes wide, you watch the mammoth piece of wood reach closer and closer.

“CMON!” You’re not even sure when Hongjoong reaches you, but it’s a good thing. Hauling you up by your arm, he lets you lean against him as he pulls you away from the altar. The giant lays its foot on the wood, making a thunderous sound. Then the other.

If you had stayed where you were you surely would have been crushed.

Heavily panting, you look in amazement as the giant takes on its previous position and just, completely stills. As if it never moved in the first place.

“Are you okay?” You jolt hearing that soft voice in your ear. Looking beside you, all you can do is nod, swallowing the dryness in your throat when the proximity registers.

His arm still securely around you. Shoulder pressed against his firm chest.

That has you jerking away. Aching legs protesting the rough way you step away, shudders already travelling through you at the loss of his comfort.

He opens his mouth to say something, but by now the others have caught up.

“CAPTAIN!” The chorus of their yells brings a smile to your lips. Oddeye immediately scoops you up in a bearhug, squeezing you so tight you wince. Sheepishly he puts you down and as soon as he does, Meli jabs you in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“That was for nearly dying without us.”

That actually makes you laugh. “I did not nearly die. Had it all under con—”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Rapid movement among the trees has you all on high alert, backing into each other with your swords at the ready.

More giants?

What emerges doesn’t make you feel at ease.

The God and his Cyclops.

“I do wish Zeus had taught you mortals how to follow instructions better. Though I have to say I’m impressed you thought to finish your offering.” Hephaestus takes a glance at his wooden giant and he lets out a gleeful laugh— a long, long gleeful laugh that spirals into a manic one that has him wheezing and bowing his body. “Brontes get to work on fixing up this mess, would you? Very quick thinking using fire. Not something one would usually have handy, either.”

“I believe in being prepared.”

The smile he gives you is almost twisted. “If you’re prepared, I take it you have also prepared something for me?”

“Yes, I—”

“Let us take rest first. There is another mortal guest, I hope you don’t mind.” The God interrupts.

No other words are given the chance for exchange when Hephaetues signals for the giant to start walking, each heavy step bringing tremors to the ground. Sharing a glance with Meli (and briefly with Hongjoong who you’re quick to look away from) you instruct the crew to grab the chest and start following.

The walk is a long one and now that the adrenaline has completely died down, every sore, ache and pull on your muscles is excruciating. Your jaw feels wired shut with how hard you’re clenching it, breathes coming out heavy under the burning sun. Sweat rolls down your skin, sticking to your lashes and the crevice of your clavicle.

All in all, you’re sticky, hot, exhausted and aching beyond belief.

But as always, you say nothing.

With your knees starting to feel wobbly, you gradually (and subtly) slow your pace behind the crew. There’s a drowsiness that makes your eyelids feel heavy, chest moving with your shallow breaths and you’re half concentrated on not passing out and the other half on walking straight— meaning, you completely miss the way Hongjoong’s eyes follow your lagging figure, quick to note how you slowly distance yourself from the crew. Concern fills his gaze that soon lands on your expression that is nothing short of exhausted. The lazy blink of your eyes, the dullness settling on your face and the way he can see you practically dragging yourself to move is what has his own pace subtly slowing and soon enough he’s far at the back, a few paces over from you leaving him to keep an eye on you out of the corner of his eye.

He hasn’t spoken with you properly since that tense-filled outburst back on the ship or after he asked you if you were okay. And the weight of it has manifested itself in a fist sized stone to press down in his gut.

Keeping his distance has that stone breaking into shards, stabbing at his insides. It’s just that painful to feel like he can’t go to you, having you so close, yet feeling as if you’re so far— all that was running through his head was to rush to you after being told that there’s trouble and seeing you on the floor behind the giant, looking ragged and near broken, smoke everywhere made him hold his breath with prayer upon prayer for your safety.

And the Gods answered his prayers at the very least— because you are safe and sound.

But as he watches your steps stagger and then your body begin to sway, he worries you’re not totally safe and sound, compelled to close the careful space he’s kept between you two.

And just in time too, because when your body slumps and you start to fall forward, you find that instead of feeling that harsh thud against the ground, you’re being propped up against something warm and firm, an arm slipping around your waist and allowing your weight to rest against it.

Something faintly floral and sea-kissed floats up your nostrils dizzying you further, yet calming the heavy thud of your heart. Which is surprising when you recognise that scent so clearly, skin humming in recognition of that touch on your body, and rather than pulling away like you so want to, your body decides that the comfort is needed, having no physical or mental strength to pull away from Hongjoong. (If you were conscious enough, you’d comment that you hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. And Hongjoong would have cheekily replied that he would definitely be making it one.)

You’ve both stopped walking — you with no choice to do otherwise and Hongjoong with his need to take care of you welling up inside him — he pulls you firmly against him whilst manoeuvring the canteen at his side between your bodies, pushing the cap off. The arm around your waist slides up to bend around your shoulder, his fingers delicately laying against your jaw and tip your head back. His frown deepens as he watches your eyes roll out of focus, softly muttering an encouragement for you to drink some water; you feel the rim of the canteen press against your lips, Hongjoong balances your face between his dainty fingers and then you feel the coolness of liquid flooding into your mouth. He murmurs softly for you to swallow, eyes focused on your downcast eyes and making sure you drink. There’s relief on your parched lips, in your throat and your overheated skin.

Though you’re still feeling weak, there’s a certain rejuvenation now, but not enough to get you to pull yourself away from Hongjoong. Ensuring you’ve had enough water, he replaces the cap and lets it swing back by his side. Gaze lingering on your face, soon you feel the brush of his fingers trailing up your cheek pushing the strands of hair sticking to your sweaty face away, curling behind your ear. The touch lingers and your breathing feels odd for an entirely different reason, sun-drunk no more, but rather intoxicated by the mere sensation of his skin against yours. There’s a tug at your heart, one that tugs on your dead brain that should be making you pull away.

But you can’t.

If anything you sink more into his comfort, letting him bear your weight as he slowly starts to walk again.

The distance has grown between you and your crew, though you can still see them and Hephateus perched atop the giants shoulder. Everyone but them has slowed down, fatigue hitting you all.

Hongjoong’s eyes switch between eyeing the ground and making sure you’re still at least conscious. It’s insane how those few seconds of those sparkling brown eyes falling over your face can make your skin feel like the sun is rising and bringing with it, it’s warmth.

The walk is long still, but the entire time he holds you securely, all up until you reach the centre of the island, where Haepheatus instructs one of his giants to tend to you all.

Everyone all but collapses on the green, a chorus of grunts and groans speaking of everyone's exhaustion. But, Hongjoong doesn’t care about everyone else right now. He only cares about you. Sharply, his eyes scour the group and once he spots that familiar face, again uncaring of the exhaustion it holds, he turns to you, walking to a tree surrounding the green and lowering you to rest against the trunk providing you shade, Hongjoong cups your cheek briefly, pulling his arms away. Your lids feel even heavier if possible, but the noticeable detachment, that missing comfort, has your hands automatically curling around Hongjoong’s shirt, a weak fist clinging to the flimsy material.

He freezes, swallowing the sudden dryness as his eyes flit down to where you’re holding onto him. Those shards in his stomach crumble away into nothing, insides nothing but sickly sweet honey. There’s no stopping the way the curls at the edges of his lips slowly start to stretch on his face as he smiles down at you. He wishes he could stay in the moment, but your head starts lolling and he’s reminded of the issue at hand. Voice gentle, he leans forward to press his lips to the side of your head, “I’ll be back, okay? I’m going to get Hwa.” Your reply is a bout of incoherent mumbling and there’s no way to explain the consuming ache that falls in Hongjoong’s chest when he carefully lets your hands drop into your lap and he steps away.

Those eyes scour the crowd again, relief flooding when he easily spots Seonghwa amongst the many faces. Energy drained from the journey and the heat piling down on him dissipates with the urgency to get help for you, legs speed walking through the outstretched limbs taking up the space.

“Hwa.” Immediately he looks up with a lazy glance, meeting Hongjoong’s concentrated eyes droning into his. “It’s y/n she—”

Before he can even finish, Seonghwa’s sitting up, brows furrowing. “Where is she?”

You’re in the same position Hongjoong left you in, albeit now your eyes are closed. Hongjoong watches Seonghwa crouch down and press his hand to your forehead, softly uttering your name until you respond with a moan.

“She’s probably exhausted. The heats not helping. It’s good you put her in the shade.” Hongjoong merely nods, eyes focusing on your face. Seonghwa notices the way he’s looking at you and huffs a smile that morphs into a full blown grin. Pulling a bundle of cloth from his side bag, Seonghwa empties the remainder of his water onto the material, allowing it to soak up the coolness before gently placing it on your forehead. “We should get her to drink some more water though. And get her a bed as soon as possible.” His nod is more fervent now, taking hold of his canteen to see how much water he has left.

Facing Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s voice softens with his smile. “Go ahead and get some more. I’ll stay with her.” Hesitance befalls Hongjoong’s face, something Seonghwa picks up quickly, making him snicker quietly. “She’ll be fine. Go on now.”

One of Hephaestus' one-eyed giants has already set up two large marquees; the temporary structure is made of smoothened wooden beams bent from saplings shoved into the ground by its strong hands and tied together, a covering of thinned leather draped over. In between the trees, there’s a building of wattle and daub, standing even taller than the giants head and after pulling up the latch securing the large and heavy door, he whines deeply, like a groan from the depths of the sea and waves his hand lazily, motioning everyone over.

Hongjoong slips in with the crowd leading into the large hut and realises its a storeroom. Barrels line most of the space, some uncovered allowing Hongjoong to see the dry grains stored inside. The hut opens up at the back, the light almost blinding as it reflects into his eyes and soon Hongjoong realises it’s a lake. He bypasses the rest going for cloth and straw for their makeshift pillows, or those seeking the mounds of bed piled in the corner and heads back out through the doors into the clearing.

Oddly, despite the sun being out in full force, here feels refreshingly cooler. A light breeze takes that stifling feeling off of his skin as he approaches the clear water and kneels at its banks. His palm dips just below its surface, gliding and allowing water to pool in his palm to rub along his neck and the back and over his face, gathering more for him to drink up. He gasps for air after swallowing, not even realising how dehydrated he had become in his concern for you.

The water echoes with his disturbance, eyes mesmerised by the motions for a moment. When it clears he sees himself. He looks so tired. Every inch dim and dull, from the brown of his eyes to the hue of his skin.

It’s like he’s about to worry himself to death.

Something he thinks he’s had to do more often since meeting you.

Except lately it hasn’t been worry for himself.

It’s you.

He doesn’t know how to decipher that exactly. He knows that he’s formed some sort of attachment to you — these thoughts unravelling slowly through his mind as he fills his amphora with water — but he isn’t yet aware of the extent of it. From the moment he met you he felt the enormity of your presence. You’re magnetic. With the way you carry yourself and the way you go about life, you manage to draw people in and he supposes that’s why you’re the captain, why you’re someone people look to for leadership.

But he knows it isn’t merely that. Walking back through the hut, eyes distant with the thoughts clouding his mind, he questions the why. He questions what it is he sees in you. And he questions what you see in him.

When he reaches Seonghwa you’re in the same position he left you in. Your breathing is steady and you seem completely relaxed.

“Here.”

Glancing back, Seonghwa takes the amphora, turning away to bring it towards your lips with soft commands to drink. Hongjoong watches the way Seonghwa lightly taps your face as he presses the rim against you, tipping it back into your mouth, water sliding down your chin as you lazily drink.

"Do you mind going to see if there's somewhere we can let her sleep?"

By now most of the crew have taken rest, all but passing out under the shade of a marquee. He notices that Meli and the few crew who had gone with you in the first place are sitting by the crate.

And soon Hephaestus arrives, exchanging words with Meli. Hongjoong catches him telling them to take rest and that they will discuss things once the captain is awake. Meli bows her head politely and once Hephaestus turns, you see her shoulders sag.

It’s like she can feel his stare, head lifting and swinging around to look directly at him. He offers a smile, continuing on his way, but when Meli starts to make her way over he slows his pace.

“How is she?”

His mouth gapes before words find him. “Fine, thank The Gods. Hwa’s with her now. I’m just going to get a bed ready for her.”

Slowly she nods. Then a misty faraway look overcomes her eyes as she stares straight ahead, making her way over to the storage hut.

“What happened? With the Graeae?”

That has his steps faltering. The thought of the place he’s discovered to be your old home has a thousand questions swirling together. But then at the forefront of his mind is the look on your face when you both left.

Frown blooming his clear skin, he speaks softly, distantly. “I… don’t know. They exchanged words about the journey and what was needed… about the possibility of death. But before leaving they said something that I didn’t hear and I haven't had the chance to ask…” His frown deepens and he wonders what they must’ve said for you to act so strange.

Meli chooses her next words carefully. “The Graeae… They have a way with words. A way that gets in your head. Sometimes you’ll leave knowing more than you came for. And that can be dangerous. Our captain’s definitely reckless, but today … I don’t know.,, just didn’t seem on form. And in any other circumstance, I trust y/n’s decisions. But I’m wondering if they’re thinking straight.” She suddenly stops, palm landing on Hongjoong’s shoulder and giving him a firm stare. “You should know that we would die for our captain. And our captain for us. And we have been in many a reckless situation. But something about this… is starting to feel off. And I’m certain it's because of them.”

Silence lingers uncomfortably. What is he to say to that? He chooses to say nothing. “I’m going to go get her bed ready.”

Meli frowns, withdrawing her hand. “Oh. Okay.”

—

When you come to, the sky is devoid of that sunshine warmth. Apollo has done his job of putting the sun to sleep and now looming high is Selene's moon, bringing forth the constellations.

Your view isn’t of the sky though. It’s of white cloth barely illuminated by moonlight. It takes several blinks for the fogginess to fade and several more before you can will your limbs to move by the inch. Groans of protest crack from your parched throat, body heavy and sore, but at least in much better condition than earlier.

At least you’ve not awoken in the underworld… well you think you haven’t.

Managing to roll onto your side, you’re startled to find a painfully familiar face. He’s propped up against a bundle of hay, head tipped back and mouth agape; like a child, features relaxed, totally vulnerable, and there’s a slick of drool pooling from the corner of his lips that makes you snicker. Compelled, you start to push forward, body protesting the movement as you outstretch your arm, a hair away from his face when he starts to move. Gasping, your hand drops and you roll back onto your back, shutting your eyes — like a child about to be caught being awake when they shouldn’t.

There’s some shuffling beside you and then a long yawn, his lips slapping together after and then just quiet again. You stew in the silence until you feel brave enough to open your eyes again.

And when you do, his are already on your face.

He blinks and suddenly sits up, shuffling toward you on his knees.

“You must be thirsty.” He mutters hoarsely, grabbing his amphora and sliding his free hand beneath your head helping you to raise up and meet the outpour. Though you’re acutely aware of his closeness, of his hand against your hair, you can for a moment ignore it, because he’s right— you are thirsty.

“Thanks.”

He mumbles back a ‘you’re welcome’, moving to his previous spot. The both of you stare up at the fabric ceiling in silence and oddly it's a peaceful one despite the many thoughts hitting tenfold now that you’re rested.

The tent flaps when it’s moved aside and through the darkness you hear Seonghwa’s voice.

“Suppers ready. We should wake them.”

“Ah, actually —”

“—I’m up, Hwa.”

He steps through, coming closer and you can hear his lopsided smile as he speaks.

“How you feeling, captain?”

“Like I just had a battle with a God-made giant.”

Chuckling, Seonghwa moves closer and crouches down in front of you. The back of his palm gently lands on your forehead and he nods to himself, pulling away.

“Your fever’s gone. Make sure you drink plenty.”

“Hongjoong gave me some water, don’t worry.”

He breaks into a short laugh. “Of course, he hasn’t left your side, so.”

Hongjoong clears his throat at the same time you quietly say ‘he hasn’t?’ wonder in your voice and a tightening in your chest.

It’s that very feeling that has you rushing out ‘you said suppers ready, right?’

A dizzy spell washes over you the moment you rush to sit up, but for the sake of distancing yourself from the odd sensation and the apparent cause of it, you ignore the lightheaded feeling, stumbling so much when you stand that both Seonghwa and Hongjoong spring toward you to support your weak form.

“Take it easy!” You shouldn’t be so surprised that it’s Hongjoong scolding you— not the caring could-be-doctor-Seonghwa— but that hint of care yet again makes your legs start to move with his words abandoned somewhere behind.

“Stop being dramatic— I’m fine.” Wiggling your arms free, a deep breath is all you need to start heading away.

Neither men move with you, only merely watch you weakly walk away until you’ve slipped through the tents curtain.

Outside, the evening chill bristles through the hairs on your arms, like an eel wading through the water, bringing goosebumps to your skin. The centre of the camp has a fire blazing, the burning smell of the wood and the meat being turned over the fire swirls up your nostrils making your stomach growl.

When was the last time I ate?

The crew mill around, some circling the fire and others on random patches of ground with their cloaks slung over their shoulders. The giants are out of sight, which you think odd— though you’re sure Hephaestus has more tricks up his sleeve for any unkind guests— and tending to everyone with pouring of wine and giving of bread are what surely must be nymphs.

Their dresses are glossy under the starlight with flowers woven around their garments and even in their hair. You could see both the men and women alike in awe of their beauty.

If made you want to scoff though. For all their beauty, here they were stuck, under the thumb of a God, serving others.

“Excuse me.” Your hand coils the arm of a passing nymph who looks like she wants to rip your surely filthy hand from her floral scented skin, but also clenches a smile in obligated politeness. “I need to speak with Hephaestus. Can you take me to him?”

“I will first ask if he is available.”

Before you have a chance to reply there is a chorus of yells, mostly of surprise— a name.

Turning, you see a hoard of people entering the camp, a sea of nymphs tending to them, but the chatter is from your own crew, that distinct tone of Meli's voice.

"Manvitha."

The nymph says something to you, but your own surprise consumes you, spurs your steps to the newcomers— Meli and the others simply stare, mouth gaping with the firelight bringing their expressions alight.

And you see it is true — that the person is who they say it is.

She stands before the crowd she came with, long hair in a plait of black silk. Older now, though it is unmistakable that it is her. That her features, roughened by the life she has led, yet a soft mimic of…

"Father…"

Oddeye is shell-shocked behind Meli. You've only just noticed him as he shakily comes to a stand.

How long has it been? Since that day they battled and he let her go?

The reunion moves like the sea; the crowd parts like water splitting and the waves seem to suspend in the air in the moments that chatter dies down and father and daughter properly face each other, hearts quaking behind their ribcage no different to the wailing winds rocking it about.

And then the wave drops— Manvitha rushes forward, letting her sack hit the floor with a rattle, easing around the bodies laying — even past Meli — until she's close enough to throw her arms over the broadness of Oddeyes and pulls him against her.

Still shell-shocked himself, it takes a moment for him to register his little girl physically being before him, let alone hugging him, before his face crumbles with a sigh of sweet joy and his own arms curl around her back, squeezing her to him.

It's like that for a long, long while and it is the scene that Hongjoong and Seonghwa confusedly walk into.

From behind you, Seonghwa asks "what's going on?"

With a small dazed smile you simply tell him "Manvitha's here."

If your eyes had met his, you would see the surprise and the alarm and something that he has hidden deep within himself for a long time.

But you don't see it.

And you don't see that when Manvitha parts from her father with a tear-filled laugh, that when she turns to Meli straight away, and the two linger apart with the small distance, their eyes a bridge that anyone who isn’t a fool could see is made of the stars themselves and they finally embrace, Seonghwa’s eyes shudder as if his insides have been twisted and pulled out.

Even as they part, Meli's hands move to hold her shoulders, scanning her as if she can't believe she is really here, both of their gazes lingering with those stars between them.

"Manvitha." You move forward with a grin that grows when her head whips around.

Behind you, Hongjoong stares, quietly asking Seonghwa "who is that?"

The question is simple, but his answer balls in his throat making it feel clogged up. He swallows. Then takes in a deep shuddering breath. "That's… Oddeye's daughter."

A simple response, but it sounds off. Peeking at Seonghwa's face, Hongjoong frowns. "You okay?"

Whatever it was, Seonghwa brushes it off with a grin. "Yeah. Just been a while since I last saw her. Since any of us have."

"What are you doing here?" Meli breathes out.

Manvitha laughs, now at her father's side, his arm keeping her under his wing. "I should be asking you that."

You grin. "For an adventure of course."

"Where you off to this time?" She laughs.

"The Flannan Isles."

Silence overcomes the camp— your crews chatter dying, Manvitha and those she came with drilling their eyes into you, even the nymphs have stilled in their tasks.

Manvitha’s mouth opens, but she’s interrupted by the arrival of another.

“So my aunts favoured mortal truly is suicidal.”

At Hephateus' arrival the nymphs, Manvitha and her companions all bow their heads in respect immediately and upon exchanging glances with Meli, one by one you and your crew follow.

“God Hephaestus, it’s an honour.”

He seems to glide across the floor, though his legs are stocky, solid Olympian muscle making his entire build. Hair unruly and face and hands covered in soot, he stands before you with his head tilted curiously.

“What do you hope to find in those isles, pirate?”

Meeting his eyes, an impish grin comes over your face. “Who knows, God Hephaestus? Whatever it may be, I want to be the one to find it.”

“Find it you may, live you will not.”

You don’t falter. “That is why I come to you, God Hephaestus. It appears my crew and I will have a better chance with your help.”

“The chest. What does it contain?”

“Adamantian. I have heard that you are always seeking such a rarity. I offer this to you in exchange for your help.”

He shows his Godliness in the form of his cunning smile, eyes dark and swallowing like an abyss. “Seems it would be easier to slaughter you where you stand and just take it.”

Each Nymph, once full of grace, moves from the simple power of his voice to round the backs of those closest to them— of your people— pressing the chilling sharp blade of daggers to their throats.

“But, I must admit that I was rather impressed with the way you handled my giant today. I can see why my aunt has a soft spot for you. Very well, I shall help you.” As soon as those words are said, the nymphs move away in uniform, resheathing their blades so well hidden you hadn’t even noticed they were there. They pick up their baskets and go about as if they weren’t ready to kill your people within a moment's notice. “Come with me.” He turns to a nymph and simply nods his head, facing forward again wordlessly whilst you watch a group of them gather to pick up the chest.

As you both disappear within the shrouding darkness of the forest, the chatter slowly grows again.

“The Flannan Isles, father? Really?”

“What do you know of those isles, impu.”

The word of affection that she feels she has not heard for eternity softens her gaze and her heart. “Who doesn’t know them, father? I’ve heard it is where lost souls go— that they haunt there and wait for fools like you to wander into.”

“Manvitha.”

Her eyes are sharp on Meli’s. “Don’t. You’ve always babied him. And what is y/n thinking— surely they know the dan—”

“They saw the Graeae.”

Much like those mountains, the warmth seems to get swallowed from the air bringing a chilling coolness to crawl up Manvitha’s skin. “I thought… They’d never go back there.”

“As did we.”

“Well see! This just proves my point! If Y/N had to go there just for this, then you shouldn’t be going at all— Father, surely you must agree?”

Oddeye rubs the back of his neck, but there’s no hesitance as he speaks. “We trust the captain and we would die for them.”

“Fools. The lot of you.”

“It’s nice to see you still don’t sugarcoat your words, Mani.”

“Hwa!” Each of his features lights up with a grin, arms open and ready to catch Manvitha when she heavily collides herself against him in a tight hug. It’s so odd how he sinks immediately into her comfort, he almost forgets where he is. But when she pulls away and looks up at him with a smile, that though is bright nonetheless, he feels that painful eruption in his heart when he notes those stars she shares with Meli are missing when she looks upon him. She distracts Seonghwa from that sinking feeling when her eyes peek behind him, at the unfamiliar man lingering. “Who’s that, then?”

Glancing back he simply says, “that’s Hongjoong.” The expectant raised brow makes Seonghwa chuckle. “We found him at sea and now he’s staying with us.”

“Hi.” The awkward wave makes Manvitha blink then snicker until she full on laughs.

“Hello. He’s… not like us is he?” She asks with a tilt of her head. Hongjoong blinks back at her while she scans him head to toe— his vibe alone is enough for her to know he’s not cut from the same cloth— her scrutiny making him shuffle awkwardly.

Meli rolls her eyes, slinging her arm around Manvitha. “Leave Joong alone. He’s been doing well with us— a great student. Right, Oddeye?”

Before the man in question can even input, Manvitha pipes up with a dry “bringing in strays again, father?”

Meli curves her arm in until it's against her throat and she has her in a headlock. “Who’re you calling a stray?” Manvitha responds in kind with a jab of her elbow in Meli’s gut, making her release with a wince. Their closeness never strays, however.

Manvitha grips Meli’s waist and gives her a teasing grin. “Who said I meant you?” Then her eyes are back on Hongjoong. “How’d you end up at sea then? I’d say a soldier abandoning his post but…” there’s that scrutiny again as she tilts her head and scans his body, “that doesn’t seem right. Fisherman caught in a storm then?”

Already, Hongjoong gets the sense that Manvitha is the type to say whatever’s on her mind— with minimal, if any filter.

He knows that his answer will be disappointing too.

“I’m not sure… I don’t remember.”

Her frown proves him right. She’s about to question him some more, but Meli appeases her with some more interesting information that they haven’t felt to voice until now.

“Hecate guided him to us. He’s a demigod.”

“Demigod? What God is your parent? One of the big three? Why do you stay here and not on Olympus? Are they not aware that you wer—”

“ —Come now, Manvitha. Leave the boy alone. We’ve had a long journey. Let us all eat now.”

Most of the crew has already started to feast. The nymphs have been pouring bowls of stew and offering water and wine and rolls of bread.

Once having got their own food, they all sit around the fire. Manvitha tells them how they were cornered by Greek soldiers and barely made it out— they took heavy losses, including their own Captain, drifting for days on their damaged ship before they landed on Clop Island. They thought they were goners when Giants arrived, but Hephaestus had told them to invite them in. And now they work for him.

“In exchange he gives us food and shelter. It’s not a bad life.”

“But don’t you miss it?” Seonghwa asks. “Didn’t you leave because you wanted to make your own adventures?” Hongjoong peers at Seonghwa whose eyes are boring into Manvitha with something he can’t quite pinpoint. There’s been something tense about him ever since he saw her again.

She doesn’t notice. Only offering a shrug as she spoons more food into her mouth. “I think… Seeing so much death… Made me rethink things. There is still that risk doing our work for Hephaestus, but there is also… security… I know that I will never have the life I want if I were to settle down somewhere. Women without money or status… well you know. Can you see me tending to a farm or some shit?” That makes the group laugh, Oddeye shaking his head with a fond smile. “But there have been times when we’ve run into trouble and I’ve felt that rush, you know? So I guess, yea, I do miss it.”

“You should just come back with us.” Meli blurts out. She tries to sound casual about it, keeping her gaze downcast at her bowl, but there’s something like hope in her voice.

If Manvitha notices she doesn’t mention it, only offering a snort. “Maybe… if y/n ever hangs up her pirate's life.”

That has everyone, but Hongjoong chortling. He frowns, turning to Seonghwa and softly asks “why’s that so funny?”

“I’m guessing you don’t know much about y/n, do you Hongjoong?” Of course he can barely open his mouth before Manvitha continues to speak. “When y/n left home they… didn’t have anywhere to go. And then they ended up on a ship— on another pirate’s ship. At first they were just a deckhand but the captain soon saw their talents and they rose up in the ranks. Except… it wasn't as easy as that. He liked to control them. Treat them like a slave. Something disposable. He was a shitty captain but he was worse to y/n. And one day y/n stood up to him. He dragged them to the decks and—”

“The gist is that after that everything changed. Seonghwa had to tend to the captain for days and the crew— none of us thought what he did was right. There was a mutiny and long story short, we voted y/n captain.” Meli’s words were clipped, devoid of emotion— clearly the memory is one she’d rather forget.

Hongjoong was able to put two and two together and he felt an unearthly swell of rage consume him from the inside out. He’s sure if he wasn’t dead already, he would kill the person who dared to harm you.

“Whatever that piece of shit may have done to y/n, it never changed the fact that they fell in love with being a pirate. It’s where they belong.” Manvitha tells him.

Silence overcame the small group and it was after a long while that Oddeye cleared his throat.

"Think it's time we get some shut eye."

—

The stay on Clop Island had been a mere four days. In that time you were a rare sight to see.

And when it was time to leave, you were all too eager to get your crew back on the waters.

With each sunrise and each moon high speaking of how much time has passed you, you find your irritation growing. It seems like this entire journey has been more of a load of detours than getting to your actual destination, and you’re starting to blame someone.

“How much longer?” You question Meli, steps full of your angst when you approach her at the helm.

Her laughter cuts off, turning away from Oddeye to regard you. She can sense your impatience, but doesn’t comment on it. “I predict half a full moon's cycle, Captain.” You huff, turning away from her with a nod and make your way back to your quarters where you’ve mostly been holing yourself up in.

Yet, you are intercepted. By the very cause of your irritation.

“Are you—”

“I haven’t the time.” You dismiss, moving around him as he mumbles 'okay?' watching you head further down the deck. A frown grows on his face and without hesitation he hurries after you, fingers curling around your upper arm ceasing your steps. The feeling of fire grows wild across your expression, filling your eyes with its inferno as you look at Hongjoong and rip your arm away. “What do you think you’re doing?” You hiss between clenched teeth.

He seems taken aback, straightening up as he lets his arm slap down against his side. “I wanted to see if you're okay if you stopped for two damn seconds.” Your irritation seems contagious because it fills his usually soft voice in a way that bites at you. And then he steps closer, the flames in your eyes reaching out to incinerate the colour in his. “What’s your damn problem, hm?” This darker more menacing tone needle pricks at your heart sending you rigid; he has an effect that you can’t decide is Godly, or just him on you, one that orders every nerve ending to be receptive of him alone, that commands your body to still near him as if you’re under a spell.

Maybe sirens aren’t only female and Hongjoong is one, because you very much feel like a call has penetrated your brain and driven away your will.

Especially when your voice comes out as a timid whisper. “Nothing.”

The only thing worse than his closeness and his voice is him touching you. The ridges of his fingers are embedded with hot embers that paint your skin in its heat when they brush your cheeks until he’s cupping you gently between his palms.

The sea is storming inside your chest.

The only response you can give is the widening of your eyes, because ice travels your bloodstream, rendering your insides frozen to your bones, a statue that can’t will yourself to slap his hands away the way you want to— well, the way you think you want to.

Being held this way, so tenderly, as if you were someone fragile and deserving of being handled as such makes you feel queasy and yet you can’t stop it— can’t stop the way your body welcomes him and his touch, can’t stop the way he contradicts the iciness of your insides to make you feel as if lava-hot rivers run through you instead.

It’s only when he starts to move closer, eyes diving into the depths of yours that something in your brain jumpstarts the rest of your body and before you know it you’re swinging your head forward, colliding with Hongjoong’s forehead making it snap back in a way you’re sure has given him whiplash too. A cry falls away with the motion and when his head rebounds forward his eyes are wide and startled. A maggot called guilt eats your heart from the inside out but you square out your shoulders and give him the coldest stare you can muster before turning sharply without uttering another word to him.

He doesn’t try to stop you this time.

—

It’s not until three days later that you cross paths again.

Something you’ve done as long as you could remember is stand by the sea, close your eyes and just listen. When you were younger you’d pretend she was talking to you, that the rifts in the water was her dancing for you, that the whistle along its surface was her hello.

Now, you know better. But you still find comfort to simply listen, to sharpen your ears to take it all in.

That’s why it’s so easy to hear the dull thuds of his steps even above the slap of water falling back down. Unwanted tingles spore along your back at the mere anticipation of his closeness— though you don’t know why you’re feeling anticipation when you’d rather he be anywhere but near you.

Still, you don’t move when he eventually leans against the railing, placing himself at your side.

At your side. God’s help you.

A music box of the ocean sounds plays between you both, sparking the calm atmosphere in something that bordered on magic with him close to you like this.

“Are we going to talk then?”

You sigh. Magic over.

“About what?” Your eyes slowly open and though you can feel his eyes and see the way his gaze settles on you in your peripheral vision, you allow yourself to glance up at the navy sea of the sky.

Hongjoong scoffs at that, finally taking his eyes off of you to look down into the waters, pressing his nails into each other. “Well… what happened the other day for one.”

Taking a deep breath, you supply him with an excuse, because you don’t want to face the actual reason, especially with the words of your caretakers echoing in your head. “I just value my personal space.”

He nods numbly, still staring at the lapping water. “Fair enough, but… I don’t think that’s it. You’ve been weird ever since we visited the Graeae.”

Instantly, water fills your lungs and a storm brews in your head, striking your nerves with lightning and you push away from the railing and make to leave. But of course he moves into your path, blocking you from leaving. Though, he’s mindful not to touch you this time at the very least.

“What did they say? Why are you suddenly so cold with me? ....Or did I do something…” His eyes flutter as he mumbles that and even in the dark you can see the way the light in his eyes dims and you detest how much that makes your heart feel like it's rupturing, a pain you didn’t think possible to experience, nor one you want when it concerns him. “Tell me so I can fix it.” He says hastily and again, you never thought that the pain would be able to increase tenfold, but it does.

Hate poisons your system— for yourself, for him, because you hate that you’re making him question himself and you hate him for making you feel this way in the first place, hate that you believe you have conquered the sea but now you feel like it’s drowning you, and you have no idea how to deal with that.

So you give him your rage instead of the comfort you feel you desperately want to instead. “There’s nothing to fucking fix. This is me. This is who I am. A monster thrown away at sea.” You feel like you’re swallowing acid, it only erodes, erodes and leaves the disfigured skin hanging from your jaw baring the darkness you harbour.

He’s quiet. Eyeing you closely; the way your chest heaves, the disturbance in your eyes under the stars, jaw clenched so tight it makes your lips quiver with your rage.

Softly, he asks, “you love the Graeae, do you not?”

The question has you pausing. The thoughts and feelings congesting you slow to instead stare incredulously at him. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Do you, or do you not? You must do. Even though you left, it must’ve been painful to do so.”

How does he manage to make you feel like you’re made of clear glass that he can look into and see everything?

“If you know then why bloody ask?”

He steps closer and the move has you holding your breath. “Because,” he drawls, “some consider them monsters and yet they have your love. So what if you’re a monster? Does that mean you don’t deserve my…” He swallows, “deserve my concern?”

Though he is still mindful not to touch you, his proximity still makes you feel dizzy, his words a breath to hold within your lungs until the lack of air will have you desperately seeking it. The tides carry away the seconds, stretching it into minutes beyond the horizon, all the while his question drips like sap landing on your tongue, its thickness clogging up your throat.

Finally, you choke out a whisper. "I do not.

—

The sun breaks through the dark clouds, its light directly penetrating your orbs and seeming to bleed into your brain; its brightness shrivels the organ tight, tight, tighter, until your skull feels like it will collapse. Gritting your teeth, a heavy breath struggles past your lips just as you struggle to steer against the rough tides, putting your entire strength into making the ship turn, and when you do the sun cowers behind the mournful heavens above, the pressure in your head disappearing as the ship rocks over the water and slams down heavily creating a splash, the cold sprays sobering your dazed head.

“Are you okay?” Meli asks, concern etched in her features.

Each blink brings a feeling of sawdust trapped behind your lids, the last spells of dizziness leaving you along with the ear-against-a-shell sound fading. “I don’t know.” You mutter. “Think the journey took a bit out of me.”

Her palm is warm on your shoulder, warmth carried in its heart that resonates through your body leaving waves of comfort and familiarity. “Go rest, friend. I’ll keep us on course.” You haven’t the strength to refuse, legs suddenly feeling boneless, so you merely nod, whispering a thank you through cracked lips and make your way to your cabin.

That pressure in your head returns, one that feels as if your skull is splintering into your brain and you all but collapse onto your bed once you reach it.

With your eyes closed, you feel intoxicated, everything swimming around you even if you lay still, the motion of the ship and the sound of water drowning you in discomfort. Another breath struggles through your windpipe, a mere huff in the air, your lungs weighing down on you as if you were at the bottom of the ocean being crushed by its merciless body. Overcome with the sensation, tossing and turning, you don’t hear the footsteps approaching your bed. Nor the dull sound of something being placed on your bedside table.

“Oddeye sent me down with some chai, what is wrong?”

You hear that voice very clearly. It’s a song you can’t lose, a song that refuses to be lost and will only replay over and over in your mind. He sounds concerned, but doesn’t he always? It irritates you, that his nature be so soft compared to yours, yet you can’t help but melt into it. Words can’t find you when the pain in your head swims up your nerve endings and deems you nonfunctional. The bed sinks under his weight and amidst the sea of pain sinking you to hostile depths, you feel a hand reach out and start to bring you to the surface again.

There’s a touch of saintly song in his skin when his palm lays on the side of your face. You hear him hiss and the bed lift when he stands suddenly.

“You’re burning up. Hold on.”

There’s no chance of reply, he rushes off too fast anyway, his feet hastily carrying him to your personal washroom. There’s a jug of probably staling water, but he grabs it anyway, seeking out a cloth before returning to your side. His knees dig into the surface of your bed, his body heat washing over your searing hot body, except his heat feels as if the yellow of the sun materialised within its rays and wrapped around you. A sigh leaves your lips and without thought your body shifts closer to him. Lips dry and parched, his tongue runs over them as if it would soothe the desert you’ve left him in, as if it would ease the cracks waiting to be rejuvenated by you. The flannel is swirled in the water and the excess drips when he pulls his hand above the surface and wrings it out. You feel the coolness press to your forehead and manage a hum. Inside your body, there is a war like Gaia has erupted into a volcano, her molten lava and spitballs of fire engulfing everything in its path— a warning to run, run, run — and Uranus has decided to rain down on her to douse that inferno— a response that clearly does not heed her warning, the cool of the flannel battling it out with the fever poisoning your system.

When he moves, you groan, forehead creasing in disagreement, thinking he’s leaving you. But you hear the jug get placed on the bedside table and then he sidles up closer to your body, his hand cupping your face with those heaven-crafted eyes focusing on your face. The mere contact of his skin on yours seems to subdue some of the pain curdling your blood and aching your muscles and organs, bringing only enough strength for you to lay your hand over his and press him into your skin, as if to imprint the shape of it onto your flesh.

“Sing to me.” You mumble in a weak voice.

A flutter of air parts his lips and then it’s magic, his voice spilling like the euphoria of a cracked coconut between begging lips, caressing your insides with the tender touch of a lover tiptoeing sweet nothings up to an ear under the moonlight, each soft utter overwhelming like flora in a meadow, driving the pain into submission until finally his voice kisses the forehead of your conscious and sends her to rest.

Hongjoong notices your breathing even out, feels your skin burn away into a subtle warmth and breathes a sigh of relief. He hopes that with some sleep the sudden fever will totally disappear. There’s a tug on his heart when he starts to pull away, the act of separation, though not far, voices its displeasure within his chest.

And yet, he does it anyway.

Slowly he rises from the bed, standing over you to watch your sleeping figure for a moment longer. But soon his attention is pulled to the hasty steps coming down the steps.

“How is she?” It’s Seonghwa. There’s a hint of urgency in his voice and an anxious expression on his face dripping wet.

“I managed to get her to sleep. She was burning up.” Seonghwa approaches with heavy steps, looking down at you and Hongjoong notices the way his chest heaves as if he had been rushing. “Is something wrong?”

His eyes sharply move onto Hongjoong. “It’s the women. They’re all with a fever. Like the Captain.”

Hongjoong blinks in confusion. “All of them?”

Seonghwa nods solemnly. “Meli had to step away a mere thirty drops ago— then Oddeye took over, the winds became rougher, the sails taking a mind of their own and dragged us out into unknown waters. The skies are too murky to tell where we are— rain and Poseidon's rage are swallowing us and the compass turns with the tides. And now the women have begun to fall with this mysterious fever one by one. And now we can’t even ask our Captain what to do.”

Hongjoong’s eyes stray back to your face. “What would she do?” He asks in a mumble.

Air shoots through Seonghwa’s nostrils with his short laugh. “Something crazy.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hongjoong goes to complain about how true that statement is, when the ship suddenly sways and they both topple over into the bed. They hear yells above deck and the ship sways heavily again, the structure yawning from the sudden turn— except it’s not just a turn, it feels as if the whole ship is tilting.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchange looks, glancing at you to see you’re still deep in slumber. “I’ll go above deck. You look after her.” Seonghwa grunts, straining himself to keep upright as he moves across your room back to the steps. It’s a struggle, the boat continuing to tilt at such a degree books and ornaments fall from the shelves, a clay vase breaking on the floor.

It feels as if the whole ship will go over.

The whole time you stay still, almost at peace. Even he nearly forgets that something is very obviously wrong.

Especially when, just like that, the floors level out again, everything settling and for a moment everything seems strangely still and silent — even the sea has quietened down.

Chills crawl up his spine. The very air appeared nonexistent.

It makes him anxious.

Fuck.

He topples over when the ship comes to an abrupt halt. Painting on the floor, he listens out and again there's that eerie silence.

But then it comes.

The screams.

The men's voices come out as bellows, roars like those at work but then they become piercing, ghouly screeches that grate Hongjoong's ears. The sound of swords being unsheathed, of feet trampling the decks and then the crashes and thuds— bodies and the ship slowly going to ruins.

His mother's voice drifts into his mind, that calming mantra and it spurs him to his feet.

The entirety of the ship quakes and slows him on the steps up to the decks. Slamming against the sides, he grunts and falls to his hands, using his palms to help push him up the steps.

When the air hits him he feels like he's standing beneath Mount Olympus watching it erupt with the titans.

Part of the railings flame, ash swarming the air.

And as if he really is witnessing war, he sees the men, expressions twisted with fire and courage and strength and the glint of their swords.

But then he sees the enemy.

Mermaids.

One arches from the water over the boat, hair a twist of tentacles that lashes out as it dives over to the other side and before it hits the water, those tentacles wrap around the throats of one of the men— Pelops, a boy really, who's face showed his youth— gets dragged along the deck floors, tentacles tightening to the extent his eyes start to bulge, fingers desperately clawing at the thick appendage. Three—four men turn and desperately swing with all their strength at its morbid flesh— but it's no use. No mere mortal blade can pierce.

Pelops starts to lose air, the men stuck between hanging onto him and tearing at the beast. His legs flail, shaking as the suffocation becomes too much, hands losing their strength and Hongjoong tries to think of all the stories his mother told him about the monsters that lurk in Poseidon's kingdom.

And there her voice comes. That soft lull in his ear painting stories in his head.

So, his mouth falls open. Amongst the screams of terror, amongst the chaos of battling feet, amongst the desperate fight for survival, Hongjoong opens his mouth and he sings.

His voice alone halts every sound, ceases all movement for but a moment, until the mermaids wail— a piercing unearthly screech that has them flailing in the water until his voice seems to reach deep within and they still. Completely.

Their bodies slack and eyes stare up to the ship almost hypnotised— the mermaid who had her tentacles wrapped around Pelop's throat weakens and slides from around him, falling slack into the water with a splash.

The men breath heavily, anxiously, backing up into each other with eyes darting all around them.

When Hongjoong finishes his song, he merely looks on at the mystified creatures, his own eyes glowing like stars of emeralds.

"Go."

Powerful sprays hit over the sides when they dive back into the depths from whence they came.

And once they are gone, the Godly surge lighting his eyes fades and all that remains ate the trembles in his body.

"We need to go. Who did we lose?"

"About half the men. All the women are still below deck asleep. These things— they came out of nowhere. The water...suddenly still. Quiet. Then they came… we had no chance." Būlus whispers mournfully. Tears welling in his eyes when he looks away from Hongjoong.

"It makes sense. The women. They don't hurt women." The tremors hit his voice and he swallows hard. "Oddeye. Where is he? Or Seonghwa?"

"Seonghwa took some of the wounded below deck during that chaos. Oddeye… I haven't seen him."

The dread increases tenfold and Hongjoong barely registers the men talking about the damage before he's turning away.

Every movement appears before him in slow motion. Blood being scrubbed in a withdrawn push and pull. Amphoras being passed around with haunted eyes. Boneless strolls to clear the deck.

Hongjoong is sure this is a day no one is likely to forget.

His own energy seems depleted. Even more so than the days you had first found him adrift. That time seems so long ago — and it has been — but at the same time the man he has become… after you, seems to have come about so quick it makes his head spin.

He wonders if his mother would be proud of him. Of all he has been able to face and all he has seen and learnt. He knows his mother would take a liking to Seonghwa, would dote on him. She would share plenty of laughter with Oddeye and maybe even scold him for making her precious son work, but it would all be in good humour.

He thinks that she would love you. That for all the hard exterior you try to put on, she would easily spot the warm soul you hold within.

Though he is anxious to find Oddeye, he is even more anxious to check on you. Even though he tries to rationalise that he knows you and the other women are safe asleep — or under the mermaid's enchantments — he still longs painfully so to be by your side, so he can see with his own eyes your health return.

As he passes one of the doors leading below deck, it pushes open and there stands Seonghwa. He looks as worn and as wrecked as the ship. Skin paling and eyes distraught. Blood mars the hands he works to keep neat and tidy, a personal principle he follows as the crew's only doctor.

Hongjoong recognises the invisible wound Seonghwa has. Pain.

Without thinking Hongjoong draws closer until he is able to wind his arms as securely as possible around Seonghwa. The man tenses, clearly startled, but the longer Hongjoong remains embracing him, the more Seonghwa’s body gives in to the comfort. His face falls against Hongjoong’s shoulder and hugs him back, heart that had become twisted the longer he tried and failed to save those who he considers family slowly unwinding.

The ache now is a little more bearable.

Pulling away, Seonghwa quickly wipes at his eyes. “Thank you.” He says quietly.

“Of course.” The silence lingers between them, the reality weighing on them. “Hwa… Have you seen Oddeye?”

His face becomes even more grave if possible. “No. When I left you… it all happened so fast, we didn’t stand a chance.” Hongjoong nods, gnawing at his lip in anxiety. “I don’t understand… getting dragged off course like that… I’ve heard of mermaids attacking ships, but never for no reason. If they feel their territory is being threatened or something maybe. I didn’t think they’d come this far out either.”

Hongjoong frowns. “That’s true… They aren’t usually in the middle of nowhere.”

“At least it’s over. Why did they leave anyway?”

Sheepishly Hongjoong scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, something my mother told me about them came to mind.”

“Well I owe you all my lifetime’s, friend. You saved many. Including me.”

“You saved me first so consider us even.”

They’re able to at least laugh at that.

“Let’s find Oddeye.”

Oddeye is nowhere to be found by the time the last light starts to fade. By now the deck is some sort of semblance of what it once was. A strong man of bronze by the name Athis had helped Seonghwa to gather and wrap the bodies— Seonghwa told Hongjoong that Athis was probably the only religious man amongst the crew — him and his brother — whom he helped Seonghwa to wrap. They agreed that once the you and women were awake they would complete the funeral rites.

Hongjoong thinks that despite all the stories he has heard, those both dangerous and those full of pure adventure, that now they all need prayer.

At the helm taking charge of redirecting the ship and finding the path is Porus. A quiet man, his beard and sun-browned skin reminded Hongjoong of Oddeye. In all his time here, they must have exchanged five words at most, but he is said to be one of their wisest and deadliest— a soldier who had been captured by the Greeks and made a slave and quietly learnt their language and secrets before escaping, he bargained his way onto the ship with knowledge of treasure. Apparently you had taken a liking to him rather quickly, which was a rare occurrence.

With you and the women still in slumber and Oddeye missing, the crew have placed their trust in him to lead the way. Though Hongjoong is unsure of where they should be going now.

Surely you won’t want to continue after such a great loss? Surely you should see that your suicide mission is not worth it?

Leaning against the rails, Hongjoong inhales deeply and allows his eyes to close as his head falls back. He thinks back to that night, not long after departing from Clop Island, where he spoke to you right here. The pain in your eyes that he could see even with your guard coming up. Your sharp tongue meant to strike like a blade only hitting his foolish heart with the softness of a lone floating petal falling against his skin.

He worries that you still haven’t woken, even though Seonghwa has assured him that you are fine. You sleep so still that Hongjoong’s eyes have tricked him into believing your breath has gone and you’ve left the shell of you behind for him to grieve. A madness has struck him, one filled with his own rage and pain and grief— for the men, but for Oddeye. Seonghwa has tried to stay strong. To keep up with his own duties, but he knows it has taken its toll. And still he reminded Hongjoong with a soft smile to get some rest. Hongjoong dreads to think how you will react with the news… The man he knows you have come to view as a father now lost at sea and he knows you will blame yourself. Think that you falling under an enchantment would be some kind of weakness on your part.

Pushing away from the rail, Hongjoong goes to turn away, but suddenly stops. Far in the distance, under the moonlight, he can see something. He squints, trying to recognise what it could be. It floats atop the water, large — burly — and when it moves sluggishly, Hongjoong’s eyes widen.

“Porus!” he calls urgently, heading toward the helm. “I think there’s someone out there.”

The man merely gives him a look, one that seems to penetrate Hongjoong’s eyes as if to seek all his secrets.

“Look! Over there! I saw them move!” He can see the doubt in the fine lines of his forehead. “You found me in the middle of nowhere— someone’s out there, we should help.”

The man is quiet for a while, but wordlessly he starts to turn the steer toward the floating figure. Hongjoong leans against the side, calling out, though they are still too far for them to hear. He doesn’t know why there’s an urgency in his chest, one that makes him start biting his nails.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa appears beside Hongjoong, brows pinching together looking in the direction Hongjoong’s focused on.

“I think there’s someone out there. I swear I saw them move.”

“Who would be all the way out here? And alive?”

“I managed.”

“Oh goodie, another demi-god.”

Hongjoong scoffs. “In that case, we’ll leave them.”

That has Seonghwa breaking out into a hearty laugh. “I think you’ve been hanging around the Captain too much— that’s cold.”

Hongjoong only grins in response.

His expression grows serious the closer he gets and by now, more of the crew have gathered at the rails, looking out at the unknown figure floating in the ocean. They start calling out, but this time whatever’s out there doesn't move an inch. Hongjoong isn’t even sure if they’re breathing— even sure if it is a person. The men stretch their arms over the sides with lit wooden torches. The flames glow on the sea's surface, pooling out its light. The sail ripples with the light breeze and soon they start to slow.

“Well? What is it?”

“Should we pull it in?”

“It’s not moving— OI!”

Seonghwa’s eyes drift to Porus over the calls. “What do you think?” Porus is quiet, simply crossing his worn hand over the other and leaning against the wheel. Finally he nods his head. “Come on then, let's bring it in.”

It takes time and effort for the men to form a contraption long enough to get a hold of the object, grunts and curses pushed through gritted teeth, until they eventually give up.

“Shall we send a rowboat? This is useless.”

Hongjoong has to agree. This is useless.

“Okay, you three go.”

The crowd parts for the three men, watching them depart onto the rowboat, then steadily get lowered into the water. Their oars move swiftly through the waters, growing farther from the ship and closer to the mystery at sea.

“What is it?” Someone shouts to them.

They grunt, balancing on the boat as they move and try to use the oar to reach out. It looks like a piece of wreckage suddenly came up, slimy seaweed piled atop.

“Rubbish.” They yell back.

They move the torch over the pile, squinting their eyes, ultimately deciding to just head back. The boat rocks a little unsteadily as they move back to take their seats. Just as their hands curl into a grip around the wood of the oars, they hear a noise.

It makes them freeze. The hackles of their backs rising, that sense of doom still instilled in them since the attack.

Now that they are still, the noise that comes after a few seconds of silence is clear — a groan — a sound that is very human.

Hastily, they draw the boat closer and use the oar to reach over and bring the wreckage closer, Expressions twist into grimaces when their bare hands pull apart the wet and sticky heaps of seaweed and—

“Oddeye! It’s Oddeye!” Laughs of disbelief echo in the vastness, the happiness so pure and filling that they embrace one another in hopeful hugs.

The men on the ship squint their eyes and shout, asking what’s going on. But there’s no hope of them being heard over the trio's own roars of celebration. Eventually, they watch them move on the small boat and reach out for the floating wreckage. Each of them holds their breath, wondering what it is they’ve found, unable to properly see out in the darkness, even with their lit torches glowing bright.

It’s some time before they start rowing back. Each minute that ticks by weighs down, knots their muscles in tenseness. When the boat is close enough, the flames bare their grins and their hollers are much clearer.

“Oi! Hwa, we’re gonna need you.”

They move back and none of the men aboard the ship can believe their eyes. Immediately they’re all calling out his name— Oddeye! Oddeye!

All that somberness seems to dissipate for the mere reason that the man they were certain would be on route to the underworld by now is alive and mostly well.

“Quick, pull us up.!” They collectively work the ropes, the strength they’ve all been depleted of suddenly rejuvenated as they start to pull and pull, bringing the boat higher and higher up the side. It takes five of the men to help pull Oddeye onto the deck, carefully letting his body slump against the cold wood. As soon as Seonghwa’s at his side, they back away to give him space. Everyone watches closely, tentativeness filling their eyes.

“We gotta move him — help me.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I… don’t know. Someone get water and someone go set up a bed, get blankets and bring my stuff. You lot help me move him.”

The joy is brief; feet rush around the deck and just like that, the brief joy and relief has been swallowed and that anxiety has reared its ugly head.

Porus is silent at the helm, redirecting the ship and Hongjoong is left standing there with a dry mouth feeling lost.

There’s an ache in his chest that he hasn’t really taken the time to process since the heavy loss— one that grew when he thought Oddeye dead.

With no conscious thought, he finds himself moving. That urge for comfort brings him to the doors of your chambers. Just knowing the fact that you’re beyond the doors is enough to have his skin buzzing with warmth.

And when he pushes the doors open and moves down the steps and sees you still laying there peacefully, it’s as if he’s taking a breath for the first time.

He finds himself kneeling at your side and if anyone were to look in, they would not find an ounce of the Godliness in him, because Hongjoong looks about ready to worship you. Those brown eyes of his shine adoration usually bestowed upon divinity, fingers reaching and hesitating like a mortal remembering its palace at the feet of a God — only look but don’t touch.

But he needs to feel the saint of you kiss his skin.

The pads of his fingers brush the loose tendrils of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with care. They move to trace across your cheek, over the arch of your nose to your other cheek, dragging his finger down to your jaw. When he’s done, he settles for grasping your hand in his.

He sighs in content, eyes slipping shut and head falling to rest on your bed. “Wake soon please, my love.”

And before he can register what he called you, sleep overcomes his heavy and tired self.

—

The abyss of darkness you find yourself in is strangely comforting. One would expect that fear would manifest in the sinews of your being, yet something mellow and song-like soothed each joint and muscle to relaxation as you float in this nothingness.

A song surrounds you, lulling you peacefully. It should be eerie, the way it fills the vastness you seem to be in. An ethereal harmony making you feel like you’re ascending.

The voice soon changes. To one familiar to you. It has your heart reviving from its dormant state into a whirlwind that sends pressure through the valves and the muscle, making it strain and beat so madly you don’t spot that first breakthrough of light in your abyss, don’t notice the bubbling in your ear as if you’re finally taking a breath only to find water filling your lungs.

You don’t notice until the voice seems to drag you to the surface where that light has broken through.

The feeling of waking up is odd. Your eyes move behind your lids, like you’re dreaming. In your ears is that familiar sound of the open ocean and the birds whistling under the Greek sun. Like many times when you’re about to awaken from your slumber, there’s a heaviness in your limbs that takes its time to go as your muscles start to awaken. You feel the need to stretch, groaning softly as your legs reach out and your arms pull out at your sides.

When you slump back into your relaxed state, you start to rub at your eyes, squeezing them shut until finally you start to slowly blink them open. The blur clears after a few more blinks and groggily your eyes look upon the dimness of your quarters ceiling. Breathing slowly and allowing your mind to fully awaken, you simply lay there for several moments longer.

When some coherency returns, fragments of your last conscious memories appear— the journey you and your crew set upon and the moments of your anxiety to reach its end until finally the moment a sickness befell you. You recall Hongjoong’s concern— him being in your chambers— and the way he treated you with fragility as he took care of you…

Lo and behold when your head turns you find him there as if he had never left you. He kneels on the floor, which you know must surely be uncomfortable, with his head resting over his folded arms.

The sight of him makes you swallow harshly. Tendrils of his hair fall across his sun-kissed skin. His lips are parted the slightest, back rising and falling steadily with each inhale, exhale. His lashes cast shadows beneath his eyes, empathising the beauty of them, even closed.

You’re not sure what compels you, but the memory of his voice bringing you into the light from that abyss just before you woke up sounds in your head again and has your hand reaching out. The pads of your fingers find themselves pushing through the soft strands of black, cushioning themselves against his scalp rhythmically like the tide gently pushing and pulling from the shore.

What you’re doing registers belatedly, making your hand reel away from his hair. But as you pull away, you find your motions stopped by the burning coil of his fingers reaching up to grip your wrist.

Then those brown eyes are piercing your own.

Now you can see the bags darkening and sagging on his skin, the veins making his eyes look bloodshot. He looks as if he has been to hell and back.

But the moment he sees you are awake, you watch the way light fills the muddied brown, bringing forth a golden constellation. He says nothing. Merely breaths a heavy sigh, as if relieved, and then presses your palm against his cheek and allows his eyes to slip shut.

It startles you, but not as much as it should. Doesn’t have you recoiling like you should. Instead you watch him and allow your palm to mould the shape of him.

Finally though, you clear your dry and scratchy throat and manage to ask “how long have I been out?” His eyes open and he merely stares at you, not making any move to reply. “Are we still on course? Are we close now?”

He lets your palm slide from his face, but you note that he keeps his hand pressed against yours.

“We’re heading back to Clop Island, because the ship needs repairs.”

“What?!” You wince as soon as you try to sit up, groaning against the stiffness of your back.

Immediately Hongjoong smooths his hand over your shoulders and ushers you to lay down. “Take it easy.” He scolds softly. Before you can question him further, he stands and disappears in your personal storeroom, reappearing with a jug and a cup. You watch him fill it and place the jug on your bedside table and take a seat beside you in silence. He doesn’t say another word either, only prompts you with a gentle hand behind your head to meet the cup he brings to your lips. He makes sure you finish it to the last drop, lowering your head with his hand back onto the pillows.

“Would you like some more?” You only shake your head no, staring after him and wondering why, despite the havoc your hearts wrecking inside your chest, why you haven’t dismissed him. He nods, placing the empty cup beside the jug.

Silence falls over you both. You’re so curious and concerned, but you can’t voice any of it because your eyes are stuck on the tenseness held within his shoulders.

He looks upon your face again, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face and just as his lips part, the doors to your chambers noisily push open.

His fingers recoil into a fist and he draws his hand away from you, turning toward the feet clambering down the steps.

“They’re awake.”

You frown behind Hongjoong’s body, shielding you away from the person you recognise as Seonghwa.

Who’s awake? What does he mean? What’s going on?

Hongjoong moves aside and Seonghwa’s gaze falls upon you.

“As are they.”

—

All this time, you’ve been focused on one thing. On one selfish thing. And that’s the chance for adventure, everything else be damned.

Everyone else be damned.

That loyalty — that blind loyalty — your crew hold to you seems entirely pointless as your eyes move over the wrapped bodies of your men. Of those whose bodies they had managed to hold onto at least.

Some of them looked much too small and sickness wells in your stomach thinking of your younger members succumbing to such a fate.

We’d die for you.

At the time, words that encouraged you, that spurred the wildness in you to seek the extremes, to go so far that it might have even meant your end, now taste bitter. Poisonous.

It’s not like you’ve never been in such perilous situations before. But, this is something else. These feel like pointless deaths for a pointless quest and it’s all because of you.

Your bowed head finally lifts, your silent prayer over. Your gaze lingers one last time over your men and then you turn and leave.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa follow quietly behind you. It took much of your impatient questioning while Seonghwa examined you before they finally revealed to you what happened while you were knocked out. Never in your life had you felt this useless and this much self-loathing and that’s something you’ve felt often before. You don’t think you truly processed the extent of your grief, that you really believed it to be true until your eyes witnessed the grave your ship has become for yourself.

Onto the next room, you pause with bated breath. The hesitance shows within every inch of you; tremors make you close your hands into fists and the sudden lightheadedness makes you squeeze your eyes shut. Hongjoong instinctively moves closer, waiting for the moment you pass out to catch you.

But you don’t. Taking a deep breath, your eyes reopen and you push the door open before cowardice can settle in.

There lies Oddeye.

Your feet only go as far as the threshold once you see him. No thoughts or feelings come to mind immediately as you stare after him with wide eyes. He looks so still… skin ashen and devoid of the life he usually holds… It’s as if… He’s dead.

Invisible chains wind around your ankles and root you in place as the thought repeats itself over and over in your head.

Dead dead dead dead.

A shudder runs through you and your breath comes out choked. Slowly, you move closer and closer until you’re standing over him. Your face contorts into one of pain as your hand reaches out and when you cup his bearded face that connection ignites your nerves, leaving them splayed to be stabbed violently at until tears well in your eyes. The tears flood like Poseidon sending a tidal wave to destroy a city and you’re the fragile structure brought down, your body falling over him as you hold him in grievance.

There’s still warmth to him and that fatherly scent and you cling even tighter, begging the Gods to keep him safe and if anything, to take you instead.

It’s some time before your tears cease and even longer still when you part from Oddeye. You say nothing when you wipe your face and turn away from him.

“I’m going to speak with Porus.” Don’t follow me is what you don’t say, but the two men understand nonetheless.

You leave them in silence.

They both release breaths they didn’t realise they’d been holding once you’re gone.

“I’ve… never seen them cry before.” Hongjoong’s the first to speak. Voice hollow and cracked. He doesn’t want to leave you be, even if those are your wishes. All he is thinking is that if he feels like the fabric of his soul is stained in turmoil and his heart is breaking just from seeing you cry, then he can’t even begin to imagine or understand the extent of pain you’re feeling right now. He swallows hard and blinks away his own tears, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“It’s a rare occurrence. In all the years I’ve known y/n I’ve only seen them cry a handful of times.” Seonghwa debates his next words, but decides that now is a time best as any for him to say it. Turning, he looks Hongjoong directly in his eyes. “They’re going to need you now more than ever. But y/n won’t admit that. So go at their pace. But please… just… be there for them.”

He tries and fails to hide his surprise. But still, he nods. “I will.”

—

Porus is at the helm drinking from his amphora and you suspect that it’s not water in there. As you near you’re hit with that familiar waft of rum.

As soon as he notices you approaching he holds it out, lips curling into a barely there smile when you take it without hesitance. You gulp the liquor down like it's your lifeline, the burn exactly what you need and when you’ve had your fill you gasp satisfied.

“Thanks.” Porus nods in response. “How far are we?”

“Least a week.”

“Is there nowhere else?”

Porus moves to the table and points at the map. “There’s these isles, but there’s no telling what lies there.”

“If we went there first and there’s nothing, how many days would it put us out of getting to Clop?”

“Depending on the tide and weather, only a day. But that is still a day more.”

You gnaw your lip in contemplation. The crew are tired and resting on land would be better sooner rather than later. They have the tools needed to use whatever natural resources are on the island to fix up the ship and Seonghwa knows what kind of herbs to look for, for the wounded. It would be no Clop Island maybe, but it’s still something at the very least.

“Set a course then for…well what is this place called?”

“Rhodes.”

It seems your senses have really dulled under your pain. Or perhaps you would have remembered your mothers warning.

—

The Island of Rhodes is three days out. The crew seem to think it’s good news that you will anchor somewhere soon.

Seonghwa urges you to rest, to regain your strength. But you can't will yourself to leave Oddeye’s side. You keep begging for him to wake up. Joke that Manvitha will kill you otherwise.

Hongjoong stays close always. Watches you from the corner of the room while you sit by Oddeye’s side holding his hand. Meli drops by now and then and forces you to eat. She seems to think the same as Seonghwa — that you need him. When she comes with food she doesn’t give it to you, no, she gives it to Hongjoong.

At first he worried. Thought you’d go back to pushing him away. Even if you hadn’t told him to leave you alone while you sat beside Oddeye, he was just waiting for you to throw those sharp words of yours at him, to twist a dagger in his chest and tell him to leave you alone.

But you didn’t.

You’d let him stay in your presence. And you’d let him pull up beside you when it was time for you to eat. Let him feed you. Let him brush the hair from your eyes even if you didn’t look at him. Let him spoon mouthful after mouthful into your mouth and let him clean your lips when you were done.

The night before you’re to arrive at the island, Hongjoong helps you to bed. The waters have become rough and makes the ship unsteady. The skies storm and pelts rain onto the decks and makes the waves rise high in defiance to its attack. Unlike before, the warrior cries of thunder makes you jump and Zeus's bolts have you flinching.

So when Hongjoong helps you into bed, he does the only thing he can think of to soothe you. Now wrapped up in the comfort of your sheets, he sits beside you and pats over your hair and starts to sing. Each of your senses dull out your surroundings and hone in on him and his voice alone.

He’s so beautiful. Like an unreachable dream of paradise.

When he notices your eyes start to droop, he sings the last words of his song and then moves to stand.

Unexpectedly, your hand reaches for his wrist and your eyes are glossy with something he’s never seen in them before. Vulnerability.

“Stay with me please.” You say so softly he strains to hear. You don’t know why you’ve asked him this, but you hope he does.

He looks between your eyes, warring inside himself on whether he should or not. Because he doesn’t think he would be able to take it if you go back to pretending he means nothing to you.

But he also realises that you need this. That you’re in pain and that he would do anything in the world to ease it for even a moment. Even if that meant he were to get hurt in the process. He would carry all your pain if it meant you’d live happily.

There’s nothing to say. So that night he slips into your bed, right beside you as if he belongs there, and he holds you in a way you’ve never been held before.

And though your heart is a mess and those ugly thoughts invade your head, you still fall asleep feeling warm and safe in his arms.

—

When morning comes you find that you don’t want to move. You’re so unbelievably warm, or rather, cosy would best describe it. Totally cocooned in something secure, your body naturally does not want to part from it.

But upon opening your eyes, you realise the reason why you are feeling such things.

He didn’t leave. He stayed like you asked.

The back of your throat clogs up with the accumulation of feelings stirring within your erratic heart and you’re not sure if you want to pull away to stop the feeling or embrace it.

Before you can decide, the doors open and steps come down the stairs and your eyes are left wide now that you realise you’re about to be caught.

In panic, you start to push against his chest, hoping you can roll away from him in time at the very least but the utter fool with his soft features embracing sleep, merely frowns in his slumber, letting out a sleepy confused groan before pulling you against him even tighter.

Please Gods.

You attempt again, gritting your teeth and pushing more firmly against his chest, but unfortunately all that does is awaken the poor man. Sluggishly, his lids half pull open, eyes wearing his sleep so heavily as his brows pinch together. When he sees your face, you completely forget what you were doing, because he smiles. In those moments upon waking when one’s guard is down and their eyes bear their truth, you witness how the planets align amongst all the stars within the depths of his gaze and you completely forget that you were trying to escape.

Until someone clears their throat.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to lift enough to look over Hongjoong’s shoulder and there stands Seonghwa trying to contain his shit-eating grin.

“Ahem, Captain, we’ve made anchor.”

“Right-right. Um. Give me a moment.”

“Of course.” He near snickers before turning away.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you collapse back onto your bed — well Hongjoong — and sigh out. And when the man in question moves, your eyes snap open, recoiling as much as you can in the cramped position, finding him looking at you with amusement on his face.

“What?” You grumble, trying to move again. He tightens his arms, suddenly bringing you further into your chest making you gasp. The position leaves his face so close to yours that you feel the warmth of his breath fan against you. Swallowing harshly, your eyes flutter up to find his low on you. So close you can count each lash and see each speck that makes up that wonderful brown of his eyes that you’ll never admit is becoming your favourite colour.

“Did you sleep well?” Oh. Oh, why has that usually soft voice become so raspy and low in that way. And must he be so close?

Breaking eye contact you merely give him a nod, tapping at his chest in signal. “Yes, thank you. Um. I gotta go. Sort things out you know…” Have I ever sounded so awkward in my life? Who am I?!

The edges of his lips curl and you can tell he’s teasing you when he asks “Do you really?”

Ensuring your tempers in check you tell him, “yes I do. So let me go.”

“I’m not stopping you, though.”

“Hongjoong.”

“Y/n.”

Staring him down, he rolls his eyes and finally you feel his arms slip away from you. And you absolutely hate how your skin craves that it returns.

“You should get ready too.”

“I think we should wait here.” Seeing that you’re about to scold him for telling you what to do, he raises his hands defensively. “With Oddeye and the others. Some are still too weak to go. Hwa’s going with them and Porus will lead them too.”

Damn him for making sense.

—

“You lot help Hwa gather whatever he needs. You three are in charge of getting fresh water and seeing if there’s any food we can take. The rest of you help Porus.”

“Captain.”

Watching them leave, you send a silent prayer to the Gods for their safe return.

The island of Rhodes isn’t that large, even up close. Most of the surrounding area seems desolate, mere sand and dirt taking up the space. But going into the island, it slopes high, with bushes and trees shrouding it's hill. It’s as if the outside is dead, while within it flourishes.

You only hope that they are able to get what you need and be on your way.

“You worry.” Hongjoong looks out after the crew too as he comes up beside you.

Nodding, you quietly say “how can I not?”

“The dragons haven’t sensed anything at least.”

You huff a small laugh. “Maybe the God’s are giving us a break.”

“Wouldn’t that be the day?” He grins, eyes falling to your face.

Looking up, you meet his soft gaze and find that you can’t stop your own smile, even if it is only a small one. “I guess they’re not so bad…”

"I'm glad you think so." When did he start coming closer? Fluid as water, your body the shore he is moments away from meeting. Peering into your eyes, his gaze alone tethers you, making you await for the tidal wave he is sure to consume you under— and you hold your breathe, anticipating or anxious or both— when the backs of his fingers graze up your cheek and smoothly slide into the rough and unruly strands of your hair and his shadow falls upon your face as he nears.

But whether there was any anticipation, a jolt rocks your insides like a kickstart to your brain and you step backwards, shakily clearing your throat and feeling your entire being buzz in miniscule flashes of heat. Inhaling sharply through your nose, the jitters make you move as awkward as you feel. Arms flailing (much like an octopus unfortunately), your head follows the mad dart your eyes do from here to there — everywhere but Hongjoong — until you manage to squeeze out “I’m going to be with Oddeye, now. Uh… Do you mind keeping look out?”

If Meli were here, she would tease the sound of your voice for days on end.

Trained on the path the crew left on, Hongjoong steals your attention with a boisterous laugh. Staring, all you can do is watch the way his eyes squeeze shut tight and every muscle in his cheeks work to pull them high and stretch his lips baring his teeth. He laughs so hard and so freely the sound breaks into raspy howls of air and his body bows, stomach aching with the depths of the sound so much so his arms clutch at it.

Finally breathing again, snickers here and there with only a grin left on his warm face, he meets your stare. All he says is “of course, Captain.”

—

Hours pass by.

You sit with Oddeye feeling much calmer and hopeful than these past few days. You’re unsure if it’s because you’re carrying the sight of Hongjoong laughing like that right in the crevices of your chest, or if it’s the fact that you’ve managed to make land somewhere.

At first you laid your head against his arm as you held his hand, feeling your eyes grow heavy, but refusing to give in to sleep. And somewhere along that time of fighting exhaustion — a mix of lack of sleep and the weight of everything draining you — you start to mindlessly say that first thing that came to mind. Or rather the only thing.

So naturally Hongjoong’s name falls from your lips. So naturally did you start to spill word after word about him. The way he’s silently been watching over you. His concern. Making sure you eat. Staying by your side despite the way you’ve treated him. Even just last night… when he stayed…and held you… just because you asked him to.

You didn’t even realise how much you were talking about him, until there was nothing left to say and you were left alone with only the thoughts of him.

Do I…? That’s not possible though— how could someone like me ever? There’s…just… no way… how could I—

“Some of the others have started to come back.”

The thoughts distort and swirl startled in your eyes that meet his.

Mouth hanging open, all you can do is merely blink at him.

"Captain?"

"Uhhhh. Yeah. Yeah. Right. Okay, I'll be…up. Yeah."

"Right… you okay?"

"Uh huh— yeah, yeah. I am completely, undoubtedly fine."

Awkwardness stems between you both, stare upon stare until finally, slapping down on your thighs you stand, clearing your throat and choosing to look past him.

"Shall we?"

Sure enough, when you're back above deck, Meli and Saira are helping the others board.

"Check it out, a hoard of coconuts, papaya, mangoes— oh Oddeye’s gonna love that. Wouldn't think this island would be so rich, ey?" Meli boasts.

"A shame there's no rum." You grin at her, moving to help carry the few crates on board.

"Some of the others are still out looking for fresh water. I reckon we'd probably manage to get a bird or two in there Captain. Some meat would do us good." A crewmate tells you.

"I agree, Kaleb. I shall go with you. It's been a while since I've hunted." You look upon Meli. "I bet I can get a flock of four."

Her gummy grin says it all. "I bet six."

"Achaikos, you're with me."

"Of course," he smiles full of pride, "I am the best."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, little one. I am not just first mate for my pretty face."

The way you all laugh makes you feel the lightest you have in a while. Makes you feel like everything will be okay.

As the thought crosses your mind, your gaze is propelled towards Hongjoong and you find that his eyes are already on yours, those sweet lips of his curled into an even sweeter smile.

"You alright waiting for the others here while we're gone?"

"Of cour—"

"—LOOK OUT!"

You fall atop of Hongjoong, bringing you both crashing to the deck floors heavily, eyes checking over him before flying to where the arrow has embedded in the wood. Head twisting rapidly, you see the one responsible boarding the ship— and they're not alone.

"Kneel trespassers." The growl is unearthly, deep and intimidating. It should be enough for anyone to submit, but the reel of an arrow getting shot at Hongjoong has your vision turning red.

Blood-rage is the madness you fall into as you unsheathe your sword, its sharpness cutting through the air, wild eyes focused on cutting the throat of the one who dared to shoot an arrow at your Hongjoong.

Every tendon, the entirety of your muscles have you swinging the metal through the airs tension, left, right, left, right, down, down, down the sword comes just to be met with smooth blocks, almost slow-motion movements each time.

"You humans," she says, stopping in front of you and gripping the hilt of your blade. It creaks as easily as it's bent, like it's made of nothing. "All bark and no bite." You grunt, pushing against her, giving a final cry, quickly pulling your dagger and slitting across her stomach. She merely hisses and before she can think to move you strike at her inner thighs— one slice, then another to the opposite. Sliding up to get her throat, your wrist is squeezed under her grip and you can feel that it is no mortal strength as she tightens. Gritting your teeth, you wind your head back and rocket forward smacking her head on with yours.

"Wretch."

"Enough." A great gust comes and the force of them landing on the deck knocks the crew over. "You are all trespassers on my island. Kneel before your Goddess."

Hongjoong attempts to be the voice of reason. "Let's talk this through. Please, we just needed aid."

At the sound of Hongjoong, the Goddesses demeanour changes entirely. Scorching, changing the surroundings to reflect the pure rage building within her; the water bubbles and rises up the sides, cold building and building from the waves, the island starts to quake so hard the earth slides its hills.

"You. Should be dead."

You frown as does Hongjoong.

"I— what do you mean?"

But then suddenly, recognition flashes in his eyes. Like a door unlocked unveiling all.

That night. Hongjoong arriving on the Island. The Goddess Rhode welcoming him. Spending days exploring the island, tasting the land's fruits turning into the sweetest wines, watching the stars seem to fall from the hilltops, sharing songs every night around the fire and then…

"I've become fond of you, dear Hongjoong."

"And I, you."

"That is why, I must insist you stay here."

"Stay? Goddess, I am grateful for your hospitality and your company. But, you know my dreams. I wish to explore this world. I cannot do that from here. I'm sorry."

"No. It is I, who is sorry."

"It…it was you. The night I left… you made the sea uncontrollable. You tried to kill me."

"No one disrespects me. Especially a lowly half-God. I was disappointed to hear the mermaids didn’t finish you off. Not to worry. I won't fail this time."

The Goddess moves in a blink and every instinct drives your reaction— without thought you breakaway and move in front of Hongjoong and the Goddess pauses.

Her laugh is grating, mocking. "Well, well, isn't this cute. You want to protect him? Fine, I don't mind killing all of you."

Water pools in her hand forming a dagger and with venom in her eyes her hand draws back.

But it seems that protective instinct isn't just in you.

Before you can stop him, that hopeless fool, your fool, turns you into his arms, giving Rhode his back. And that dagger meant for you, pierces him.

Your eyes meet his and this fool — this complete and utter fool — gives you that smile even as pain wells in his eyes.

"HongjoongHongjoongnono."

His weight pulls you down and you hold him in your arms, a scream in your ears that you soon realise is yours once the tears impede your vision.

"Pleaseplease." You beg, cradling his face. The warmth of his palm comes and rests over yours, still that smile there and you sob harder.

"Aw, how sweet. Hang in there Joongie. Do me a favour and stay awake long enough to watch her die too."

"Rhode, I never thought you were this petty. Honestly, I expected more from you niece."

"Auny. A bit far from. Well whatever dump Zeus put you in. This has nothing to do with you. So why don't you run back to it."

“Aw, aren’t you sweet.” Hecate says dryly, stepping around Rhode like she’s nothing and resting her hand upon Hongjoong’s forehead. “I am more than happy to fight with you Rhode, but I am telling you. One way or another, my friends will have a safe passage away from here.”

Rhode gives an outraged and astounded scoff. “The Assembly shall hear about your meddling, Hecate.”

“And they shall hear about your madness. How lovely. Now.” Hecate turns to face Rhode head on. “Get off this ship, before I make you.”

In the distance, Seonghwa and the others start to approach. They’re being ushered by what you can only assume are Rhodes people, weapons turned on them.

“And call off your lackeys.”

You can see both the fire and the resignation in every one of her features as Hecate juts her head at the bitch. Rhode pulls out a horn, blowing into it and you watch each of her cronies come to a standstill, standing straight and facing forward like a band of soldiers awaiting their next orders.

“Now begone.” Hecate’s voice booms, Titan blood coursing, curling her words in ancient superiority.

Cradling Hongjoong in your arms, you’re not sure that you have any fight left in you. From Oddeye to this, you can’t remember the last time you felt so worthless. So pathetic and weak and so much pain. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your attention falls on his face, blurred vision on the weak smile he sports and by now, the power of your cries are coming out as croaks.

Weakly, he lifts his hand and swipes at your tears.

It only makes the tears spill heavier.

“You must take care of him.” Hecate tells you, watching Rhode grit her teeth and disappear into the water.

“H-how?” your lips tremble, throat restricted, “I-I can’t do anything.”

“He’s fine, but we must get to the giants. Here. Place this on his wounds. It will buy him time.” She hands you a small jar stuffed with herbs. Your hands shake when you take it, every inch of you feeling boneless.

Grateful, Meli reaches between you and Hecate and softly tells you “I’ll do it.” Hugging Hongjoong into your chest, room is made for Meli to rip the back of his shirt and get to his wound, spreading the herb mixture around. He winces, eyes clenching shut and without thinking you lean down and brush your lips across his forehead.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You mutter, unsure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself more. “I’m here…”

Hecate calls your name. “What did your mothers tell you?” Frowning, it takes a moment to think on their words before things finally start to make sense in your head. They never meant road, they were warning you of Rhode. And the love they spoke of… Hecate sees the look on your face as you recall and she smiles softly at you. “It’s time to let go of your past and let yourself be happy.”

Happy…

Soon the crew are piling onto the ship and they’re all speaking to you at once, but it’s just noise.

Seonghwa pushes through and crouches down in front of Hongjoong. In the background and you faintly register Meli updating him, but everything is fading in and out.

Staring at Hongjoong’s weak face, something seems to click.

Happy?

—

You never left his side.

Seonghwa set up Hongjoong next to Oddeye and you were grateful.

He slept the entirety of the journey and the whole time you just prayed that he would wake up.

That both of them would.

Maybe you really are cursed. The man you love like a father, still unconscious. And the man you’ve only just realised you… Now like this.

And when you finally arrive at Clop Island you realise you need to have an honest conversation with everyone.

Returning from a bath, you see Seonghwa stepping out of Hongjoong’s tent. He’s watching something — someone.

Before you can get a word out, he talks first. And it’s something unexpected. “I’ve decided to return home.”

Surprise fills your expression. “Home? To do what?!”

Sighing, his eyes never leave that spot. Gaze filled with longing as he watches Manivrtha laugh with Meli. “I’ve loved the freedom of being at sea, but… there comes a time when you’re ready for home again.” He gives you a pointed look and it’s crazy not only how you understand him straight away, but that you’re accepting of the fact that you have, at long last, found somewhere, or someone to call home. “I’m going to become a proper physician — the best in the world actually. So, you better look me up.” He grins, finally looking at you.

Teary eyed, you’re quick to embrace him in a tight hug, pushing the air out of him. But he returns your embrace nonetheless. “I promise.” You whisper.

And that night you gather your crew.

At first, there’s the tired talk of the journey thus far. The ups and many downs. Then comes the tales of past expeditions and the jovial laughter that follows upon the reminiscing.

I’m going to miss this…

Clearing your throat, you tell your crew something you’re sure they would have never expected: a goodbye.

—

It was seven days later when Hongjoong awoke from his deep sleep.

And you were right by his side to greet him.

The nymphs tried moving you to check over him, but one glare and they backed away. You took it upon yourself to place his head in your lap and caress his head. To help pour water past his cracked lips. To whisper that everythings okay and you’re right there.

To care like you’ve never before.

And now, at the time of the moon, you have a steady hold of his arm, guiding him out to the cliffs to stare upon the sea side by side.

His head immediately tilts to rest upon your shoulder once you’re both seated on the grassy edges. The tide is out and the waves feel calm, the moonlight skipping across in a night time greeting. Without thought nor care, you take hold of his hand closest to you and bring it to rest on your lap. You just about hide your smile when he squeezes your hand, but you can’t ignore the way your heart squeezes as if that’s the thing in his hold.

“I’ve noticed the crew are gone. Care to fill me in?”

You inhale sharply. Since he awoke, you’ve been tending to him and avoiding the fact that things have very much changed in favour of focusing on him.

But the day has passed and now, out here, by the sea, it feels as right a time as any to tell him.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to tell him less anxiety inducing news first. “Well, Seonghwa has officially laid down his pirate sword. He’s decided to return home and finish his residency. Become a proper physician and all of that. He was sorry he would not be around to say goodbye himself, but promised to write to the both of us as soon as he could.”

“Oh wow… I shall miss him, but I know that he will do amazing.”

You hum in agreement, deciding what to say next. “Oddeye woke up…He was in good spirits.” You smile, fondly recalling him shooing off the nymphs and Meli and Manvitha and even you for fussing over him. “And after seeing him and realising she no longer wanted to be apart from Meli, Manvitha decided she would sail with them instead.

Hongjoong laughs softly. “I am happy to hear that. Meli deserves to be with her love. I could tell as soon as they laid eyes on each other that their souls sang the same song.”

And do you think the same of our souls? You want to ask.

With that thought you steel yourself to deliver the news of your fate. “And…I am no longer Captain. Meli is now Captain of the crew.” Your breaths are shuddery, throat dry. “Choose the pirate life or choose you.”Hongjoong tenses against you for one, two, three seconds before relaxing again. But you are far from relaxed and before he can even think to reply you confess "I was abandoned as a child. Left to fend for myself. I would go about stealing just to keep myself fed and warm. And one night Hecate found me. She told me she would take me where I needed to go. She gave me to the Graeae. At first I was frightened. I begged her not to leave me there, but she just gave me a smile and a promise that it would do my heart well. And you were right. I do love them. They were true mothers to me. I just… couldn’t take the darkness they surrounded themselves with… How they could have love for me, but everyone else be damned. And once I fell in love with the sea… though I was happy it wasn’t like that to begin with… I just hardened my heart. So if I were to be left alone again I wouldn’t feel anything. But now…It scares me that I don't know at what point my heart was no longer mine. But… I am no longer fearful that it is you who has it.

The silence lingers and you start to feel an unfamiliar sickness brewing in your guts at the thought that all this time you’ve read his affections wrong and now he’s going to ask why in the bloody hell would you think I feel the same?!

And your anxieties become even more tumultuous inside you, loud and berating, calling you foolish and worthless when he lifts his head from your shoulder.

But it’s only so he can look upon your face. Tenderly, he cups your cheeks, angling your gaze towards him and with a completely disarming and God worthy smile he tells you such utterly ridiculous sappy words.

“You can be the Captain of my heart.”

And no one would believe that you could give such a smile to words as cheesy as those.

And you of all people would never believe Hongjoong when he thinks that your smile is God worthy.

Between the way his moonlit eyes look upon yours and the starry smile upon his face there;s an overwhelming whirlpool of emotions building up within your chest.

If I cut open my heart, would I relieve myself of all that is drowning me? Would breaking the dam mean release?

But that is too violent of an act, when his fingertips are morning dew settling on flowerbeds and a cut is much too harsh and unnecessary for release.

This. This is what you need.

His lips slowly descend upon yours and your own like the hull of a ship meeting a wave draws to him. Except the inevitable drop that a ship would take wasn’t rough. It was a slow sink into one another, his head angling to draw you in calmly and warmly. Each passing second a thousand lifetimes of seasons passing and sunrises, sunsets and moon cycles.You breathed him in as he did you. Lips singing silently, sighing out home.

And when you part a breath away, eyes open to find him so close and you see his eyes. You see the song in them.

And that song is a simple one; love, all the notes dancing in colours that spoke to your soul.

He truly is a gift from the Gods.

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