Navi Sand hummed to himself as he dragged a mop across the worn wood of The Carnivale in an all too familiar pattern. It was cleaner than usual thanks to the deluge the day before. It washed away the worst of the soot and made his daily chore just a bit easier. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he took a deep breath of salty air. It was one thing he was eternally grateful for. Being on the deck in full sun all day long was only bearable thanks to the refreshing air and occasional mist that blew off the water below.
A nearly tangible excitement had settled upon the crew that day, making the monotony a little less infuriating. It was all thanks to the prize they'd stumbled upon by pure luck. Only a true sailor knew that the legends of merlings were more than a story men told to get through lonely nights at sea. Captain Slank was one of the few that truly believed it. But they were clever creatures, too crafty and powerful to be caught. The mermaid in their tank was only a child, ignorant and curious enough to approach a human ship.
The Carnivale was a very peculiar type of vessel. They didn't transport trade from Essos to Westeros, nor did they use it to catch fish for the markets along the coast. No, they were involved in a much more specific type of business. The trade of curiosities. People were fascinated by the unexplained, but they also feared it. So few sought the adventure of a life at sea. Yet, still, they yearned for the freedom it provided. The Carnivale provided for all their whims and wildest dreams. Their catches were the most bizarre you could find. A scissor fish with a beak that chopped and clipped like the man-made tool it was named after. The double-headed tuna, a seahorse the size of a man. They had it all. And now, they had the greatest prize of them all, a real-life Mermaid. Beautiful as the sea herself, patrons would flock for a glimpse at her.
"Kid!" Navi jumped at the gruff voice behind him. Jimmy, one of the gunners, stepped up beside the boy with a full bucket of chum in his hand. The stench was almost unbearable, but Navi was starting to grow accustomed to unsavory sights and smells. "Do me a favor and toss this in the tank. You make a mess, you'll be cleaning it up." Jimmy hefted the bucket into Navi's waiting grasp, a little liquid spilling over onto the just cleaned boards as he did. Navi often got the worst of the jobs aboard the ship, whether scrubbing the deck or feeding the acts. He'd been a crewmember for a little over a year now. It was for a measly wage, but it was infinitely better than scrounging for scraps on the streets of Dorne.
With a huff, Navi scuttled over to the iron gate inlaid in the center of the deck. The bucket of chum hung low as he struggled to pull its weight with his tiny body. A heavy clunk sounded as he set it down and rolled his shoulders. Navi was no stranger to hard work. Before signing on to the crew, he'd made enough money to keep from starving by shucking oysters for a vendor on the docks. His hands were calloused, and muscles rippled along sinewy arms, though his frame was lanky and disproportionate. The boy felt he was fit for a life at sea.
Leaning down, he fumbled with the latch of the gate, and with all his strength, hauled it open and over its hinges. As Navi straightened, a massive blur of shimmering blue shot straight out of the tank and into the air. Water splashed onto the deck, and Navi fell back in a heap. Pain shot up his arm, and his eyes flew to the other figure now sprawled atop the deck.
Wet fins flopped furiously against the floor as if expecting to move as fast as in the sea. The most beautiful woman Navi had ever seen began scrambling away from the tank she'd just escaped from. Slender porcelain fingers clawed at the splintering wood, no doubt ripping the skin and drawing blood. Her silvery blue tail was dead weight in her escape, and it took all Dyvon's strength to push on.
"All hands on deck!" boots thundered on wood as five sailors rushed to the scene. "Don't let it get away!" Dyvon bucked and flailed to get to the edge of the ship. If she were lucky, she'd be able to haul herself over and return to the sea. Navi scrambled back from the scene as a feral hiss sounded from the mermaid. A man grabbed at her arm with a death grip, his fingers digging into the point of her skin beginning to throb: In a flash, her razor-sharp nails raked across his skin, and blood splattered in an arch across the crates and scattered rope. The sailor cried out, dropping her to grip the gushing wound on his arm. Another man lunged, his boot slamming into Dyvon's side. This time she screamed. Her tail shot out and knocked the man to the side with unbelievable force.
She pulled herself desperately towards the side. Just as her hand closed around the rail, her neck snapped back as inky hair was yanked hard by a sailor. In an instant, three men were grabbing at her, and no matter how hard she fought their grip, there were too many. Hissing and screeching, Dyvon was hauled back towards the murky tank and shoved back down. She surged back to the surface just as the bars slammed shut on her face.
Navi sat in shock, his eyes glued to the tank and the bucket of chum, now spilled across the deck in bloody chunks. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his eyes had grown to the size of saucers. A hand appeared in front of him, and he looked to find Jimmy with a sour expression on his face.
"Alright, Kid? That was a close one." Navi took his hand hesitantly and allowed himself to be hauled onto wobbly legs. "No more opening that grate, got it? Don't want that she-devil takin' a chunk out of ya'." Nodding numbly, Navi looked to find the sailor she'd ripped up with her claws being tended to by the ship's doctor. His arm was covered in deep ragged gashes and had it been his throat she'd gotten, there was no doubt in his mind that man would be dead. A chill ran down his spine. They'd stumbled onto something much more than a pretty display piece. Navi wasn't sure he liked the idea of sharing a ship with that thing. But when the mermaid had scrambled across the deck towards the water, Navi had seen her eyes. There was no malice or anger in them but pure fear and desperation. This was a terrified animal, a frightened woman, and one that would fight to the death to be set free.
Sorcha's face scrunched in concentration. A thump sounded as her tail fin flopped against the sand frustratedly. Cracking one eye open, she peered at Gendry sitting across from her. His hair was too long for his liking and fell to his ears in a shaggy tangle. Every few moments, he'd pause to brush the dark locks from his eyes.
"I don't think it's working." Sorcha let out a huff, and a stray curl flew up in the air. Now that she'd dried off, her hair had become much more of a nuisance. It had gone from a flowing mane to a frizzy bush half its usual length and three times that wide. She decided she very much did not like being dry. The sun was merciless against her skin, which had begun to itch incessantly in the dry air. "In all the legends of Merlings not once did they think to tell us how they got legs?"
"Maybe you're trying too hard." Legs crossed beneath him, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Metal scraped against stone as he busied himself with sharpening the dagger against a few rocks he'd gathered in the forest. He knew full well that his suggestion wasn't helpful, but they were at a loss. Sorcha laid on her side and propped her head up on one hand.
"If I can't figure out how to rid myself of this tail, I won't be of much use to Dyvon, will I?"
"You've gotten this far, haven't you?" He jutted his chin as if to point out something across the beach. "I doubt many Merlings would've done what you have. By The Seven, most men wouldn't have done what you have." He let out a little scoff at the thought of it. He'd never met anyone who'd be as brave and loyal as to chase blindly after a ship and enlist the help of a sworn enemy. But then he thought of Arya and knew that she would've done the same for her brothers. She might've done the same for him at one point in time.
"Do you think me foolish?" Hot sand slipped through her fingers as she traced mindless patterns beside her. Gendry stalled halfway through a scrape, his eyes lifting to observe her. He looked at her, really looked at her. The way her skin glistened in the sunlight, the subtle lines of gold in her dark eyes. She swallowed, and his eyes couldn't help but linger on the soft curve of her neck.
"No," he muttered, and a sad smile curved his lips. "No, I don't think that. Few would've done what you did, yes. But I think that's because it was brave." Sorcha smiled, and he could've sworn the sun surged in response. His heart leaped when she looked up at him from beneath thick lashes. He'd never seen a woman as beautiful as she in Westeros, and he was sure that he could travel the whole of the world and still not find one who could compare.
"Thank you." She felt a little lighter at his words.
"I need to fetch more water." Gendry held up his empty waterskin with a little shake. "I'll be back in a few. Keep working. You'll get it soon enough." Sorcha's brows furrowed in confusion, eyes darting between him and the ocean. Maybe he hit his head harder than she thought. Pushing himself up, he brushed the sand from his severely wrinkled pants and straightened. When he caught her eye, he gave her a questioning look. It took him a second to understand.
"No." He let out a startled laugh. "I need fresh water." He held up the pouch again as if to demonstrate. Sorcha pursed her lips in thought.
"This is fresh!" She wasn't sure how much fresher you could get.
"There's more than just ocean water, you know." Gendry stepped towards her without thinking and expected her to flinch when he got too close. When she didn't, he came to sit beside her. She waited patiently for him to explain. "There are streams and rivers and lakes." He smoothed out the sand and began drawing shapes, lines, and rough circles he imagined looked somewhat like the pictures on a map. Gendry only saw a few maps on his journey with The Night's watch, and with his minimal understanding of the written word, he only made sense of things by the inked mountains and bodies of water. Sorcha leaned in close and watched him work as he explained the difference between each one. "Humans can't drink seawater, or we'll be sick."
"How strange." Sorcha mused aloud.
"It is pretty strange. Never given it much thought before now, to be honest." Gendry shrugged at the thought. He'd assumed she'd know more about land, but how could she? She'd only ever lived far beneath the waves. She knew as much about humans as they did about Merlings. He smiled at her unabashed fascination with his words. She clung to each one like it was as precious to her as pure gold. Gendry stood once more, and this time when he turned away from the sea, she watched him until he'd disappeared into the trees. She yearned to follow, but her tail remained as cumbersome as before.
Fluttering her eyelids shut, Sorcha took a deep calming breath of sea air. Light danced behind her eyes in indescribable patterns. The sand beneath her was warm and grounding, and the longer she remained sat on the shore, her tail pressed against the earth and her skin kissed by the sun and gentle wind, her mind grew quiet. Her heart raced for a chance to walk upon the land. To run and dance as free as the pelicans that swooped and soared above the sea. Her heart was with Dyvon, and to be with Dyvon her tail must become legs.
A warmth spread throughout her entire body, and for a moment she thought the sun had surged, but this warmth was from within. As it reached her fingertips and the very edge of her fins, warmth turned to a buzz of tingling. Her heartbeat rapidly in response. The wind seemed to still until every sensation was entirely internal. Then, all at once, the tingling ceased. Her heart thumped its usual rhythm, and the windswept across her skin as if nothing had happened at all. And when her lashes fluttered open, there was no glint of golden scales.
Gendry listened to the crunch of foliage beneath his feet as he took a small sip of water. The ocean roared up ahead, and now he could spot the telltale blue of open sky between the trees. A startled shriek echoed through the air, and he could've sworn his heart dropped to his stomach. Without a thought, Gendry sprinted for the beach, shoving past any leaves or branches that scraped his skin like it was nonexistent. He stopped short the moment he broke through the tree line.
"Gendry!" Sorcha's melodic voice sounded. "Look, I did it!"
Sure enough, there she was, as bare as a babe. Her legs wobbled and shook as she stumbled towards him like a newborn fawn. He hurried towards her just as she pitched to the side and fell face-first into the sand. Dropping to his knees beside her, Gendry pulled her up and brushed her off hurriedly.
"Are you alright?" Despite her fall, a toothy grin spread from ear to ear.
"These things are crazy!" Sorcha pulled her right foot up to her face like she was examining a strange shell. The toes wiggled in response and a bubble of gleeful giggles escaped her. Gendry couldn't help but giggle too. "Does everyone have toes like these?"
"More or less." He shrugged his shoulders in response.
"I can't believe I have legs! I can help Dyvon!" Gendry grunted as she threw herself upon him in a mess of awkward limbs and poofy curls. He was suddenly overwhelmingly aware of her bareness. Clearing his throat, he waited stiffly for her to pull back before giving her an appraising look.
"We need to cover you up a bit. You can't be looking like that when we get to land."
"Why not."
"Humans are... more conservative. Most men aren't as respectful of women as I am. They'll take your lack of clothes as an invitation." He gave her a pointed look, but she only seemed to grow more confused. He let out a sigh. "Just trust me. You'll be a lot safer this way."
Shrugging off his overshirt, Gendry pulled the tunic beneath it off to reveal a toned chest from years of hammering metal. He held out the bundle of fabric to her expectantly. Sorcha narrowed her eyes at it, but after a moment, reluctantly accepted. The dirtied beige fabric was hardly fit for a lady, but it would be enough to keep her decent until he could get her some real clothes. She held it up before her and looked between its various holes in confusion. With a sigh, Gendry took it back and helped her maneuver it over her head. It took a few moments and his careful direction to get her arms into the sleeves, but soon her breasts were covered, and the tunic fell loosely down to her thighs.
"Much better." Gendry stepped back to look her up and down. She looked as beautiful in his shirt as he imagined she would in a gown. Her look told him she was anything but pleased with this new development. The fabric was not a sensation she enjoyed against her skin. Sorcha fidgeted with it, pulling at it to tent the material enough that it didn't rest against her so tightly. "Now, what's our plan?" At the sharp clap of his hands, Sorcha jumped. He gave her an apologetic glance. With a deep sigh, she held out both her hands to him.
"Help me act like the women on land." Gendry knew this would be a tall order, judging by how she'd reacted to wearing an oversized men's shirt. He'd hate to see what she did with a corset. He supposed they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.
NOTE
Just me crying over how fucking adorable they are. This def isn't my best work but it has some gems in it. Like Sorcha not knowing what freshwater is. God, I love this book so much!!! Ok I'm done now.