Page 20 of The Noble's Merman

“Yes, the others,” he repeated. “I haven’t told the servants who work at our estate, and I especially haven’t told my father. I’ve been having some… disagreements with him, and I worry that my frequent ‘evening walks’ are making him suspicious. I wouldn’t say he’s a bad man, but I also don’t know what he’d do if he knew of you, if he’d endanger you in any way, or prevent us from meeting here like this.”

Mo nodded, then reached out, grabbing Kent’s hand in his. It felt so comforting, how familiar his touch was now, making Kent’s chest feel light. “I understand. If spacing out your visits to the beach keeps everyone happy, and we can still see each other, then by all means.”

“Absolutely.” Kent smiled back, entwining their fingers together. “I’ve been living at my father’s country estate, and he’d recently come back from London to stay there with me, too. If it weren’t for him, I really would try my best to make it out here every night!”

Mo chuckled, “Well, whatever works, I’m happy to meet you whenever. Thank you for informing me on all that.”

“You’re very welcome, Mo.” He squeezed his hand lightly.

Mo held such an importance in his mind; he valued him and his friendship so dearly, and was so blessed that Mo also cared for him as he did. It was strange, how they’d met not even that long ago, and yet he already felt so close to the merman. But he wouldn’t take that closeness for granted. No, he would cherish every time they met, every brush of their skin, every smile exchanged.

No one had ever looked at him the way Mo did.

It filled his heart with wonderful, unmistakable joy.

Mo and Kent decided that if they met one day, they would not meet the day following, and instead would see each other the day after that, or the next. That meant Mo didn’t have to wait for Kent if they’d already met the day prior, freeing up some of his time.

So, what could he do with his newfound free time? There was the pier he was interested in before, the one he had never explored. He hadn’t investigated the place because… well, he found something much better that interested him. But now could be as good a time as any to swim around, and seeing as how it was rather close, Kent would be familiar with the place, too. Perhaps Kent frequented some of the buildings here, and could tell Mo more about them.

Today, however, a ship was docking in the harbor. Her tall mast reached into the sky with flowing white sails, and her front was decorated with a wooden mermaid figurehead. Mo followed her in the water, staying under the surface as much as he could. But he didn’t have a good view of what the humans were doing—it piqued his curiosity—so when the ship finally neared the pier, Mo peaked his head out. He hid under the docks, around wooden poles, staying away from the eyes of the people.

People. There were so many people. On the ship, on the planks, on the land. Mo swore he’d never been this close to such a large crowd before; usually he avoided such commotion, and it spiked a cautious nerve, trailing up his spine. If he’d been near shore, usually the humans were scarce. But meeting with Kent must’ve built some sort of new confidence within him. If anything, he couldn’t ‘step foot’ on land anyway—if anyone caught the hint he was there, he could simply duck under the water.

Though, a thought pierced his mind. While he hadn’t seen people of this quantity near land, he most certainly was familiar with many humans out at sea. Whether it’d been the friendly sailors he’d conversed with, or pirates he’d sing to.

A lump rose in the back of his throat. Something tugged at his chest, squid tentacles constricting around his heart. It was coming again, a feeling all too familiar. Excitement from seeing so many humans, all in one place so close to the water…

He’d only ever used the Song out at sea. But it shouldn’t matter where a human was for it to still work. The Song was a magic that toyed with a person’s mind, bending their will and making them lose control of their own actions. Land or sea, a human was still a human. Anyone who was within range, if he could see their face, would be affected.

—Doesn’t the thought of seeing all those humans at your whim excite you? So much chaos, so much destruction, so much blood. Oh, that beautiful color—tear them apart, let it flow, there would be more than you’d ever seen before?—

His heart throbbed, pulse after pulse flowing through him. Down his tail to the tips of his fins, coiling in and out, magic was taking its course. The tentacles burrowed their way further inside, around his ribs, and more importantly, around his neck. His throat, his voice. Beckoning him to open up?—

No! I shan’t!

Mo ducked his head completely underwater, hoping that taking the humans away from view would suppress the overwhelming magic. I cannot use it here. These people are innocent. What purpose would it suffice? Who would this benefit, other than myself?

But the Song kept clawing at him, tugging at his throat harder.

—You want to see the blood. You don’t know these people, they don’t matter to you. Wouldn’t the sight be so beautiful?—

No! I mustn’t!

He dug his hands into his scalp, pulling at his hair as the relentless magic pressed on. No, no, no. He thought of what Kent said. Giving into these nonsensical urges would be horrid. The same sort of strife that cruel humans gave into: selfishness and foolish suffering. Those were Kent’s words.

If I could suppress it before, I can suppress it again.

Nausea pooled in his gut, kicking it over and over, swirling in his stomach. He had to put a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from retching. He could control this. He could resist. If the Song really was a part of him, it should bend to his will, not the other way around.

The tentacles were loosening, slowly, pulling away from their chokehold. He could breathe a bit easier, his gills opening up for water. Good, this is good. The Song would not control him. It would not. Mo needed his autonomy—he would not be a slave to some other force. He should be able to fucking look at a crowd of humans without feeling the need to slaughter them all, damn it.

Eventually, the haze began to clear. His heart rate slowed, the churning nausea dissipating. He was returning to himself. It made Mo wonder: were other sirens able to suppress the Song? Would they have even thought to try? He had no idea.

He couldn’t deny that, yes, all the blood would be a beautiful sight. A sight so thrilling, so exciting, it chilled him to his core. But he couldn’t give into impulsive, selfish desires, ones beckoned by magic. Intrusive thoughts would not control him. These people didn’t deserve such a fate. He had to think rationally, logically.

Mo felt safe enough from his magic that he dared to peak his head out of the water again. The coils were unraveling; he finally felt like he wasn’t suffocating. Seagulls cawed overhead and humans were still congregating and talking amongst one another. It sounded like everyone was happy to greet the travelers from the ship, coming home from a place he heard them call ‘The Colonies’. The sailors departed the ship, walking down the planks onto the docks Mo was hiding underneath. They kept talking, and Mo kept his ear up, eavesdropping to see if he could hear anything interesting.

“We plan to set sail again soon,” one of the humans from the ship said. “Fall River is in dire need of another shipment. But we need a moment to rest, recuperate and gather our things. We’d been out at sea for so long. I need to remember what dry land feels like.”

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