The next day, they left the hot springs, Kadar talking animatedly to his child, her stomach much bigger with the surplus of food and the warm, rich waters.

His child kept babbling on about the little girl the entire way, and Kadar laughed and encouraged him to keep talking. It was a two days' slow ride to the ocean from where they were, and that night, they were nestled snugly in an inn, all of them still well fed from the springs. His child was making whining sounds as he tried to get comfortable in Kadar's lap, the bulge in her stomach now significantly larger. The unborn child had grown exponentially with the surplus of food, and Kadar kept looking happier and happier.

"Darim, there's not enough room on my lap for both you and my tummy."

He paid her no heed, fidgeting and squirming since he couldn't hear her. He was determined to make it work, still talking about Rana as he adjusted himself. Once he finally growled in frustration, about ready to attack Kadar's stomach, Malik scooped him up and handed him to his father, and he held him, smirking at the fact that his baby was still glaring at her stomach as he clung tightly to his chest.

"I'm going to name him Tazim," she said, looking at her brother, who was settled in front of the fire.

"He will not need a name in the ocean," Malik responded without looking as he made room near the fire. "Lie down, Altair. You're fussing too much."

He curled his lips as he settled beside him.

The next day, toward noon, as the itching was beginning to set in, they arrived at the sea. Kadar was absolutely thrilled, grabbing his child's hand and leading him down to the water. They were immediately drawn in, and he fancied he could see the waves pulling them, caressing them, and their mother was happy to see them after being away for so long. Kadar and his child vanished into the waves.

"Hey! You're back!"

He turned his head to see his almost identical twin jogging toward them, another man following behind at a slower pace. They embraced tightly—the sea would be most satisfied now.

"This is Shaun," his twin said, gesturing to the man behind him. "And this is my twin, and my younger brother, and my twin has a baby somewhere…"

"Oh, goodie," the man hissed as he stepped forward. "Another beastie without a name."

"We call him Altair," Malik said, holding out his hand. "I'm Malik, and my brother is already in the ocean. Altair's younger brother we call Ezio, and his child, Darim."

His youngest brother gave his twin a tackling hug.

"Well, at least someone around here has common sense," Shaun huffed, eyeing them all cautiously. "I call that creature Desmond."

He caught Shaun's attention with his hand before touching his ears. If he recalled right, then his twin lost his hearing as well, just as his child. His twin and his younger brother were rolling around in the sand, and he could see his child coming back out to join in the wrestling match, babbling happily and earning his twin's laughter. Kadar was watching from the water, looking happy.

"Yes, that idiot is deaf. God, it makes him near impossible to live with! The man is a freak, and it doesn't help that he can't hear to boot."

Malik nodded, placing his hand on his hip. "Seems to be common in Altair's line."

He rolled his eyes, watching the exchange between the two men.

"Lord, they must be related."

He frowned.

"How did you stumble upon him?"

"The man was stark naked ripping through the soldiers trying to destroy my house for my work. I figured I could at least keep him for a while—until the soldiers got the message. I was afraid the first time I saw him, since, you know, he was eating the damn soldiers."

"What do you work for?"

"Several prime trading companies. If the kingdom gets their hands on the information I work with, then those trading companies will be regulated until they're bankrupt. I make sure their shipments arrive here, document what did make it, send out contact information—not all of which is entirely legal—and house the pirates. The soldiers will learn."

"Have they?"

"Most certainly, but now Desmond's acting like a leech. Made me move down to the ocean and spends hours in the ocean while I work. He keeps insisting on taking me down to the sea floor, but he seems to forget that I'm not a merman."

He huffed, rolling his eyes.

"And just what was that for?" Shaun spat, glaring at him. "If you start in on this nonsense about sea witches and all that bollocks, I'm not giving up my life here. He can swim around all day if he likes. I'm not leaving my home."

He rolled his eyes again, looking when he was beckoned (everything they did was telepathic. That was why they didn't need names—they knew who and when someone needed them) and left them to join them. They wrestled well into the evening, jumping in the waves and rolling around underwater, and he knew that it was good practice for his child. As they settled around a campfire on the beach, his child told his twin all about Rana for as long as he could before his twin's ears shut—and even then. He was sitting with his twin pressed against him on one side and Malik pressed against the other. His child was in his lap, gnawing on a piece of driftwood and earning him Kadar's irritation for not stopping him. It didn't matter if he broke his teeth: they would grow in new when he transformed again, but Kadar's belly was swollen enough that she couldn't keep his child in her lap. When his child sat in his lap, it was his rules.

His twin was happy to stay with Shaun on land—he enjoyed it. If his brother was happy, he was happy. Still, they ended up sleeping together in the ocean for a night, three hours' swim to their sea vent. Kadar was floored as they entered, the bustle of the sea life and the small collection of merfolk living there. They watched, silent, before crowding in close with quiet greetings and soft hugs, thanks that they were home finally and safe, and with child, too.

They led Kadar over to one of their favorite chimneys. It was tall with holes where black smoke poured out, and tube worms grew around it, creating a cushy base for her. Crabs crawled through the forest of tubes, and mussels occasionally littering the ground. She sighed contentedly, settling down as several stayed behind. Five of them had given birth in the past four decades, himself included a decade ago, shortly before he was captured and forced into the lake. They lived long lives, so few births weren't a problem, but it was always good to see another life brought into their clan. A few of them caught shrimp from the surroundings, bringing them over to find her already asleep, nestled into the tube worms and warmed graciously by the chimney. They let the shrimp go, coming back to talk to him about their return. His twin spent one night there before returning to his lover, promising to come and visit again.

It was good to be back, he decided, and even Malik agreed.

The years passed quickly after they returned, and everything seemed to look up from there. Kadar's baby was born without any complications, and his son was getting stronger and deadlier by the day. It was pity that Malik was gaining his strength back, he thought, for now he actually had to try to beat him in a fight—and not always could. His younger brother had filled out, his strength returned, and he was their best on-land hunter they had (such a charmer with the ladies).

It was almost fifteen years later before his son swam along the shoreline, waiting, watching. She would come down every night, just as she had promised, her long hair down (or braided, sometimes with flowers), and her summer dress on. She would pause in the moonlight, searching for him in the bright night.

"Why?"

He turned to see his friend staring at him, and he paused, shrugging. "Do I need a reason?"

"She's a human, novice."

"So? She's beautiful, and she's my friend."

"Watch it," his companion warned, tisking and glaring, "or you may fall in love and end up like that idiot twin of your father's."

"He is not an idiot!" he snarled, darting forward and tackling the merman.

They wrestled about until he had him pinned in the sand on the shore, snarling as he thrashed to escape.

"Darim?"

He looked up, the young woman of his dreams in front of him. He rolled off his companion, watching as he hissed and vanished.

"Was that Tazim?"

"Yes."

He hoisted himself up to balance on the end of his tail and cup her cheek. She smiled, leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. His lips curled downward.

"Has he been treating you better?"

She looked away, staring at the sand. "No, he hasn't."

He growled, and she shrunk back. "Has he touched you at all?"

"Yes. He didn't leave—"

"He raped you?" he hissed, his fingers curling into fists. "Again?"

"Please, Darim, it's okay—"

"Rana, this has been going on for years now. This is not okay. Let me take care of him for you."

She was silent, then shook her head. "I will be okay."

"You are not—" his voice cracked: he was already going deaf. That tone in her voice ripped him up. "You are not okay. Rana."

He pulled her close, eventually settling with his upper half as a human as his tail was washed by the waves. He was, no doubt, one of the largest contributors to the changing myth that merfolk were half-human and half-fish, always seen waiting atop a rock for her to come down to him. He pressed soft kisses to her neck, slowly drawing giggles. He couldn't help but smile. When he rolled her over to kiss her, he knew he was hopelessly in love—but favorite companion didn't need to know that. It would earn him only ridicule—especially since his father was already being teased about getting pregnant from his archrival.

Still, his uncle was happily living on land, and he figured that he could if he wanted, and be okay. His uncle wasn't too far from where Rana lived, so he could easily call on his uncle for help. The man she was married to now didn't deserve her.

He met her gaze, and she looked almost upset, reaching up to run her hands over his face. His eyes fluttered closed as she touched him. She squirmed when she felt the warm caress of the ocean water between her legs, and he couldn't help but laugh breathlessly. She had confessed once to feeling as if she had some sort of control by choosing not to wear the undergarments most women wore, even though it was "disgraceful" and "whorish."

He rested his head against her chest as he laughed quietly, feeling the beat of her heart beneath his forehead. Her legs bent as she hugged him, as if to cuddle him, and he nuzzled against her collarbone, eventually moving the dress out of the way to kiss the skin there.

She wasn't afraid of him. She was the one that chastised him when he murdered. They played and kissed, loved and wrestled, as if they were longtime friends, which, in a sense, they were. He laughed loudly when she squeaked as he tickled her sides. There were some things he would kill for—and she was one of them. She deserved so much better than the monster that she lived with now. The man was wealthy but abusive. He was sexist. Of course, his own lack of sexism was probably due to the fact that there weren't actually genders among the merfolk. He ran a hand down her leg, absolutely fascinated by the hair there, having little on his own human form beside the hair on his head and the thatch between his legs. His father's lover was lucky enough to have some on his chin, too.

He watched her come unraveled as he tickled her, until she was curling up, laughing and kicking. Her dress was soaking wet, and he was pretty sure she was crying from laughing so hard. He loved listening to her laugh—that was probably the most unfortunate part of being a merman, and the fact that he had to give up his hearing to a human. Already, it was hard to hear her, his upper torso that of a man causing them to close over partially. Eventually, he relented just enough she caught her breath and wiggled away.

"No fair, Rana. I don't have my legs yet."

She stuck her tongue out before smiling again. "I know! Now you can't tickle me!"

With a growl, he started pulling himself up the beach, and as the sand dried out his tail, he eventually rose onto his feet and ran after her. She yelped when he stood, and he chased her down the beach until he tripped over a root from the trees that lined the edge of the sand. He tumbled, wiping the sand from his face and spitting.

He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rana looked worried, and he smiled when he saw her mouth: "Are you okay, Darim?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, standing up and dusting himself off before he decided it was futile.

He pulled her close and kissed her once, deeply, before he shooed her off, telling her that he couldn't meet for two days since he was on hunting duty and there was a fleet of ships headed their way. She kissed him again, on the corner of his mouth, and he smiled as he bid farewell. His mind was made up.

Two nights later, he was standing on the beach, his father's (mother's) permission and best of luck. He was wearing absolutely nothing except a pair of thick, woolen gloves with the fingers torn off. They were his father's favorite possession because they held water so well. He flexed his fingers, feeling his claws, and stole off through the woods and into the village. With a quick glance around, he found a dapper gentleman walking in the dark alone. He smirked.

Once he was dressed in the suit the man had been in, he pulled the body to his uncle's and knocked. When Desmond saw who it was, he greeted him warmly, taking the offered body with glee.

"What are you doing here?" Desmond asked as they walked into the kitchen.

Their eyes were trained on each other's lips, the curse of the deaf.

"I'm going to marry a woman."

"Oh, really? Who? And why didn't I know?"

"Her name is Rana."

"Rana?" His uncle looked contemplative as he pulled out a butcher knife, stabbing it into the body as he pursed his lips. "Darim, isn't that the married wom—"

"I know. But she won't be after tonight."

Desmond laughed loudly. "Right. Need help?"

"Yeah. That's why I came to you with a peace offering."

"Well, first we have to get rid of this body."

"Looks like it's time for dinner, yeah?"

The two met each other's gazes before bursting into laughter. Darim took off his jacket and shirt, already spattered slightly with blood, and put the still wet gloves off to the side. He flexed his claws as Desmond started eating as if it wasn't a human lying strewn across the table, bleeding and mangled, but something like a bird. With a grin, Darim knocked Desmond's hand away and ripped out the heart. Desmond scowled and went to grab it back, but he wasn't going to give it up easily. By the time they were actually done eating, the kitchen was a mess, and he and his uncle were lying on each other, laughing.

"So…" he saw his uncle say when he looked at him next. "Do we get more tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I reckon fish gets boring, right?"

"Yeah. It does. But that's why I visit the vent once a month. And then don't eat for a week or two afterward."

He rolled his eyes, and they both startled when they saw Shaun come storming in, looking panicked and bewildered until he saw them both lying there, a bloody mess, and he blinked before flying into a shouting fit. Darim blinked this time, glad he couldn't hear him as Shaun raged and vented, and he turned to look at Desmond, who grinned and mouthed, "That's why I'm glad I'm deaf. This is normal."

Darim started laughing, and before they knew it, he was pulling the shirt and jacket on as they ran, buttoning up the collared shirt and watching the red seep through. He soaked the gloves again in the center well in the town and pulled them on. He left the jacket undone, grinning as he and his uncle fled the house. They decided to leave Shaun to panic. A few houses down, they stopped, and Darim touched the knob, swinging the door open. He frowned as he looked around. Undoubtedly, she would be in either the kitchen or the bedroom. He told his uncle to check the kitchen, and he found a staircase at the back, walking up and into the loft where they apparently slept. It was a small room, and he could see her changing behind the door of her wardrobe.

"Rana," he said, laughing when he saw her startle and peek around the door.

"D-Darim?"

He smirked, holding his arms out. She eyed the blood all over him almost frightfully. He paced forward, pulling her into a hug and running his fingers through her hair before kissing her head. She wasn't even completely changed yet, dressed partly in a ratty nightgown. He would get her one so much better after her husband was dead. She was holding it up to cover her breasts.

"I told you I wouldn't put up with it for the ten years you've been married. When does he get home?"

He could feel her trembling in his arms, and he could smell the fear she had. He guided her back to the bed slowly, sitting her on the edge of it as she kept the nightgown hugged tightly against her to cover her. He cupped her cheek as he knelt in front of her, leaning in and kissing her gently. She blushed.

"D-Darim, you shouldn't—why are you wearing wet gloves?"

He laughed, kissing her forehead as she dropped her nightgown to hug him tightly. Whatever she said was lost to his ears as he cradled the back of her head, one arm wrapped tightly around her. She was terrified. He could smell it—if the trembling wasn't enough. When he finally pulled back, he let his hands run down her arms as he looked over her closely. Bruises and welts adorned her skin as if they were jewelry. He hoped the husband got home soon, so he could take off the gloves and just kill the man. Rip him to shreds and enjoy another meal with his uncle. Then marry Rana. He let one of the gloves touch a bruise on her stomach, and he leaned in to kiss her after staring at it for a minute. He was going to treat her so much better. He would treat her like his princess. He would bring up treasures from the deep seas to spoil her. He would be the best thing to happen for her. And when she grew old, he would care for her no matter what happened.

He could feel the vibrations of the pounding of feet on the stairs, and he shivered in anticipation. He jumped when he felt a bucket of warm water dump on his head, and he looked to see his entire upper half back to that of a merman and his uncle standing there, laughing, before scooping up Rana and moving her to the far side of the room. Four or five of his fingers were claws, part of his neck and jaw that slick, silvery, mottled green color. He was talking animatedly as Darim watched a large, bulky man come storming up the stairs. His face was red as he roared, swinging wildly as he moved out of the way. This was the man she was married too. Darim hopped back a few steps and hissed, flexing his claws. The man staggered back, his eyes wide.

Undoubtedly, Darim was a hideous sight. He was soaking wet from his head to his groin. His eyes could see everything clearer now, sharp details, the individual threads on the shirt he was wearing. He could smell everything again, the fear rolling off the man and off Rana, the amusement of his uncle. He could hear everything again, the ragged inhales of the man, the buzzing of the fly in the window. With a roar of his own, he chased after the man as he fled.

As the man exited the house, the mercreature snarled, jumping on his back and inhaling deeply as he sunk his claws into his back, wrapping around the spinal cord as he bit down sharply on his neck to hold on. He could hear the sound of doors opening as he killed the man swiftly, reveling in the iron taste of blood on his tongue. Without preamble, he ripped into the man, shortly after joined by his uncle, who, by the looks of it, was half transformed himself. They made short work of the man, leaving him as a thoroughly chewed up skeleton in the street. He thought he heard someone calling him an "Alien."

With a huff, he straightened. He kissed his uncle goodbye, snarling at the curious onlookers before vanishing into the shadows. He waited until he heard the chaos in the square die down, sometime around dawn, and he slipped back into the house. Rana was waiting upstairs, terrified as he approached her. He paused a few feet away, watching her as she trembled. He was completely human again, still dressed in the now bloodied suit top and jacket.

"I told you: you deserve someone who will take care of you."

She watched him.

"Rana?"

"I-I—"

He frowned. This certainly wasn't going the way he wanted it too. Regardless, Rana was his now. With a shrug, he undid the shirt and jacket, pulling them off and tossing them away. They were destroyed anyhow with the blood stains. He peeked into the bathroom to find a small pot of water, and he paced over, washing himself down briskly, watching his skin turn a silvery color under the lamp she had left in there, undoubtedly for the beast of a husband to come in and bathe. He needed it. There had been a slightly filthy taste to him, and Darim ended up rinsing his mouth, spitting out into the already filthy water. By the time he was done, he hoped Rana had calmed down.

He turned toward the door, jerking when he saw her there, looking more than a little upset.

"Rana?"

"You won't—"

He stepped forward, and she stepped back. Her nightgown hung loosely over her shoulders, and he couldn't help but frown. She was beautiful.

"You won't…"

"Rana, I'm not going to harm you. I just want to take care of you. You've been my friend for years now."

"B-but—"

"Rana. I'm not going to harm you. I swear by it."

He held his hands up, stepping forward again.

"I'm going to show you how you should be treated."

He walked out slowly, careful not to touch her. She watched him as he sat on the bed.

"I've known you for fifteen years. I want to spoil you. Hell, I won't even touch you if you don't want me too. I just want to care for you."

And he almost didn't believe she would ever believe him until he was kissing her on the beach at their wedding, his father, new brother, and clan watching in amazed awe. Darim felt like the luckiest man alive.

Questions? Comments? Complaints? I'm willing to listen. But, yes, I know this is dark. Trust me. I've written worse.