Chapter Text
The ocean was quiet and tranquil, the only sounds being the lapping of the waves and the occasional dolphin or whale coming up for air. The moon shone brightly in the sky and the stars glistened like diamonds when reflected on the crystal blue water. A ship sailed serenely across the waves, most of its passengers appearing to be asleep, save for one man looking out at the vast sea. Beneath the surface, the ocean was brimming with life, with schools of fish swimming about and a pod of dolphins nearby; occasionally a shark would pass by, the fish darting away lest they become its next meal.
Gliding gracefully through it all swam a merman named Astarion.
Astarion was bored.
Since he’d broken free of his former master’s chains, life had become monotonous. While glad he was no longer under the bastard’s control, he hadn’t realized just how dull and repetitive freedom could be.
At night, he would roam the ocean, most of the time with no particular destination in mind. He didn’t have a place he could call ‘home’ – for him, home was wherever he rested during the day. He could have joined a colony of other merfolk, however his unique condition would make it difficult to live among others, so he chose the simple life of a lone wanderer.
Most nights passed uneventfully, except for the occasional fight with a shark that thought him an easy meal, or finding a ship being tossed about in a storm, and taking advantage of the drowning sailors for a satisfying meal of his own. Otherwise, it was just endless nights of swimming and eating, before resting during the day; repeating the same cycle over and over again.
But, so long as he was unshackled from his former master, Astarion could deal with the boredom for now. Although he longed for a day where he could live in actual freedom on the surface.
He swam along a few feet under the ship, deep enough to remain unseen by those on board. He mostly ignored its presence, used as he was to the sight of ships passing by every so often, as this area was along a common trade route. Unfortunately for him, there were no storms occurring, nor were there any rocks jutting out of the water, so the ship would be safe to continue its journey with no risk of sinking and, more importantly, not providing him with anything on which to feast.
The sound of something hitting the water behind him caught Astarion’s attention. Perhaps he’d find a meal yet. He spun around and saw a man in the water. ‘How unfortunate,’ Astarion thought – for the man at least.
He observed as the man attempted to keep his head above the surface, desperately moving his right arm and legs to stay afloat, disturbing the calm of the ocean. The sailors either didn’t notice they had lost one of their passengers, or didn’t care, as the ship continued to sail away, abandoning the man to his fate.
Astarion noticed the water around the man turning red and spotted a wound on the man’s left side where his other hand was pressed. His focus narrowed once the smell of blood hit his nostrils. He longed to sink his teeth into the man’s flesh and swam towards him.
Unfortunately, a nearby shark had the same idea, and he was not in the mood to fight one of them. He stopped a few feet away, planning to watch it get its meal instead, figuring he could at least get some entertainment from the man’s suffering before finding something else for his own dinner.
It seemed as if the man’s fate was sealed when the shark clamped its teeth around his leg and dragged him under, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Astarion watched as the man struggled, panic written all over his face while doing his best to hold his breath, flailing his arms upwards and kicking his free foot at the shark’s face in a desperate attempt to get it to release him. His efforts to liberate himself were futile as the shark kept pulling him into the depths. Astarion almost laughed at how hopeless the situation was for the man – and how easy it was for the shark. He began to turn away, losing interest now his meal had been claimed by another and the fight was nearly concluded.
Until the man stopped his frantic movements and a burst of light shot from his hands, exploding the shark.
Oh!
‘Well, that changes everything.’
As the viscera drifted downwards, Astarion saw the man trying to swim for the surface, blood pouring from his wounds. However, he had been pulled too deep and didn’t appear to have the energy to make it. He saw him reflexively take a desperate, but futile breath of air that instead filled his lungs with water, then clasp his mouth when he realized his mistake. If Astarion didn’t do something soon, the powerful man would surely drown.
He quickly decided he couldn’t let that happen, lest he lose his chance at true freedom, and sprang into action.
There was no fight left in the man by the time Astarion reached him. He seemed to have accepted his fate, his eyes shut and his body limp. Astarion wrapped his arms tightly around him, tucking them beneath his arms and across his back, and hauled him upwards, swimming as fast as he could despite the extra weight.
Finally, they breached the surface. There was a brief moment, when the man’s head lolled backwards, where Astarion feared he was too late, his skin alarmingly pale, almost corpselike. Desperately Astarion put his ear to the man’s chest and heard a very faint …thump…. thump… thump…
There was still hope for this man’s survival.
Ignoring the grumbling in his stomach at the scent of blood filling the water, Astarion adjusted his hold on the man so he was carrying him bridal style, doing his best to keep his head above water. It was awkward to swim this way, but he managed to make do. Thankfully, they weren’t too far from a small island, and he was able to reach it within a few minutes.
It took more time for Astarion to bring him onto dry land, as the man was – hopefully not literally – dead weight. He used powerful strokes of tail to propel himself forwards as he attempted to drag him into shallower water. Eventually, he was able to get the man’s top half onto the sand. While he would have preferred to get him completely out of the water, it would have to do as Astarion was tiring from all the exertion.
The man’s eyes remained closed, his lips turning blue, but when Astarion placed his ear back on his chest he could still hear a quiet thump… thump… What concerned him most was that he didn’t seem to be breathing properly, which would jeopardize this man’s survival if Astarion couldn’t fix that immediately. He tried to recall what he’d seen humans do when their comrades had fallen, and vaguely remembered them pressing rapidly on the chest before forcing air into the mouth in a repetitive manner.
Astarion did his best to imitate what he’d seen. He put both his hands on the man’s chest and began compressions. He wasn’t sure how many he was supposed to do before the breaths, so he did what seemed right before tilting the man’s head back, taking a deep (and unnecessary for him) breath, placing his lips over the open mouth (being mindful of his sharp teeth) and forcefully releasing the air. He recalled the humans doing this twice before pressing on the chest again, so he repeated the process one more time before starting over again.
Astarion lost track of time as he continued the sequence of compressions and breaths. His arms were beginning to tire, and a feeling of despondency washed over him, sure that the man wouldn’t make it, that he had been too late to save him – that the man was going to die and take all his power with him.
Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, without any warning the man started coughing, hacking up the water in his lungs. Astarion sat back, lest he get vomited on, and quickly rolled him on his side to let him expel the liquids from his body. It wasn’t pleasant to see or hear, but it seemed to work, because once the man stopped coughing, he could see his chest shakily moving up and down on its own. However, he appeared to still be unconscious.
Astarion pressed his ear to his chest once more and heard a much stronger th-thump… th-thump… th-thump…
He sat back, relieved that it seemed the man would be okay. Although, looking over his body, Astarion would probably need to do something about his wounds; blood was still oozing from the one on his side, and there was a large and deep bite wrapped around the calf of his right leg that was also bleeding sluggishly. Astarion knew that if he didn’t take care of those soon, then all his previous progress would have been for naught.
Unfortunately for Astarion, he’d never been very good at keeping blood inside of another’s body, being more familiar with trying to remove it instead. Again he did his best to recall what he’d seen the humans do.
The man was wearing a loose fitting shirt and trousers that now clung to him in their waterlogged state. Despite being damaged as a result of his injuries, they seemed to be in good condition otherwise and, more importantly, useful to Astarion. He also was wearing a pair of shoes and had a leather bag that crossed over his body and hung off his hip, but those would be less useful.
Without any hesitation, he began to strip the man of his clothes, intending to use those to stop the bleeding. He carelessly threw the shoes and bag off to the side and began tearing the shirt into thick ribbons of fabric with which to bind his leg. The trousers, he balled up and pressed into the wound on his side, applying enough pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding.
All that was left to do was wait and hope the man would pull through.
For the first time since he decided to rescue the man, Astarion found himself able to relax. He was quickly overwhelmed with exhaustion and hunger, brought on by his efforts to save the human. But, despite his instincts telling him otherwise, Astarion resisted the desire to take any blood from the man, knowing he had none to spare.
To distract himself from his urges, Astarion took the time to examine the man instead. He saw chestnut colored hair streaked with silver and thought when it was dry it would reach his shoulders, although at the moment it lay limply around his head like a halo. He also had a beard that appeared to be well-groomed. Astarion was curious what his eyes would look like when open, as he hadn’t gotten a good look at them earlier, but he dared not remove the pressure on the man’s side to check for fear the wound would start bleeding again.
Now the man was practically naked, save for a pair of purple briefs, Astarion had a good look at the rest of his body as well. He appeared to be an average looking human – maybe a few inches smaller than himself if he didn’t count the entire length of his tail – with a soft layer of fat, but not excessively so. He seemed to be the type who enjoyed the comforts of food, but also not sedentary. He noticed a pair of identical scars under the man’s pecs, along with various other smaller scars all over his body. He also noted, with a tinge of amusement, how hairy the man was, a stark contrast to his own smooth skin.
One particular aspect of the man’s body that caught Astarion’s eye was a strange looking mark on his chest. It looked somewhere between a tattoo and a scar in its appearance and spread up his neck towards his eyes. The shape of the mark was peculiar as well – it was circular but also radiating outwards, sort of like an orb. It didn’t look natural, but it didn’t seem to be inked either, based on how deeply embedded it was in the skin, and its coloration.
‘Interesting…’ Astarion thought; he’d certainly rescued a unique man.
Finally, he had time to think about his actions thus far. He didn’t really have a plan on what to do with him now that his survival seemed more likely. He knew the man was powerful, that was certain. Whether or not he’d be able to help Astarion achieve his goal, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity to find out. He figured that once he got what he wanted, he could leave him to his fate on this island, or maybe get a much deserved tasty meal. Regardless, what happened afterwards didn’t matter, he needed to focus on what was happening now.
Astarion sat with the man for what felt like hours, watching and waiting to see if he would wake. But, other than the occasional cough and groan from his mouth, the man was otherwise still and silent. On the plus side, his skin seemed to be returning to a healthy color, rather than the paleness of before.
Gradually the sky began to lighten, gaining a pinkish hue on the horizon. He knew he could stay with the man no longer, lest he turn to ash when the sun rose. Thankfully, it seemed as though the bleeding had stopped, so Astarion felt he could leave the man alone for a while. He’d surely awaken confused when he realized the state of his body and his surroundings, but most importantly he would be alive.
Astarion dragged himself back into deeper water, took one last glance at the man, then dove beneath the waves to find a cave in which to spend the day.