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tadpolesonalgae · 2 months

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The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 5

Mer!Azriel x reader

a/n: took a minute, thanks to the ungodly amount of italicising I had to do, but enjoy mer!az 🧡💛

Word count: 5,969

-Part 4-

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Seaweed flutters gently against your skin, feather-light as it pulls you back to consciousness.

Small, shimmering creatures dart about in between the barnacle-covered rocks and pleasantly-coloured coral, sparkling light reflecting off their tiny scales with easy, hastened movement. Out from a crevice unfurls a purple tentacle, spotted with blue and red dots that glow faintly as it emerges from its cozy home, and you watch as it politely ambles along the cave floor.

The drift of a current eases your hair out from under you, and you push up from the sandy patch you’d chosen for sleeping, set in the top of a particularly large rock, hollowed out to create a dip you can comfortably settle in. Seaweed brushes your upper arms as you peer about the luminescent cave, cast in mellow blue-green light as unknown flora sprouts from the cavern’s walls, lighting it up. Up on the other side of the cave, you spot his long, powerful tail lolling over the ledge, the rest seemingly tucked away into an alcove that he’s chosen to be his sleeping quarters.

With some effort, you manage to leverage yourself into open water, pulling yourself along until you reach the wall, where you attempt to shift your tail to propel forward. It’s a little tricky, but not an unpleasant journey—getting to haul yourself clumsily up the sides, passing other nooks in the stone that house all sorts of fauna.

You reach his ledge, folding your arms over the smooth rock, tail swishing idly beneath you.

Dark, charcoal eyes flit over, and he pauses, before lethargically rolling onto his front, copying your position in folding his arms, cheek propped upon his forearm as he gazes at you intently.

You’re awake, he thinks, and your stomach flutters with surprise, still not entirely accustomed to the way his voice resonates so deeply within your mind. Do you usually sleep up here, or was this a ploy to have me swim some more? You ask quietly, watching as amusement glows in his eyes. Swimming more certainly won’t hurt you, he replies, tail shifting slightly. But no. This is where I like to sleep.

The stone is so smooth, you wonder, glancing down to where the rock looks to have been lathed flat. Centuries of being worn down, he replies, shifting again, and you can see this time how well the slight hollows and curves fit to the shape of his body. Almost making the rock appear soft.

I forget you’re old, you think, a hint of amusement in your tone, the edges of your mouth curving, gaze twinkling. He rolls his eyes, before his features settle into something more serious, watching you quietly. You peer back at him, wondering what’s passing through his mind.

You mentioned a connection to the moon… You hedge slowly, tail swishing a little. That a new moon is when you’re closer to humans, and a full moon is when you…get stronger?

He doesn’t reply, just continues regarding you neutrally, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Your brows twitch. Is that not right? You push, peering at him. I remember you saying we were nearing a new moon. What does that mean?

Azriel’s quiet for a bit, before readjusting himself, pulling his long tail up into the alcove. You understand we are creatures of magic, don’t you? He asks, and you nod in clarification. Quite simply, upon a new moon is when we can become more humanlike. Becoming more distanced from how we are now.

How so? You push, something about the way he’s speaking sounding…slower than usual. Slightly reluctant. Wary.

Again he pauses, and you wait, tension coiling in your arms with apprehension. But then he pushes up from the rock, easily swimming past with effortless grace, so close you feel the sea move with his motion. We can rise from the water, he answers, swimming down toward the seafloor, glancing over his shoulder as he pauses, waiting for you to follow. We can walk among humans.

What do you mean? You ask sharply, scrambling away from the rock as you try to swim downward, using your hands to almost pull the water apart. I can become human again? You push, a spark of something in your chest. You don’t have to remain a mer forever. You aren’t shackled to eternity below the sea.

His brow narrows slightly, and then he’s cutting through the water, smoothly swimming upward. You blink when he moves around you, too unfamiliar with their motion to keep up as he settles in the water above you, hands gently but firmly pulling your arms back, keeping them from pulling you forward. You aren’t going to learn if you keep relying on your hands like that, he reminds, and you reluctantly ease beneath his touch, a look of disgruntlement on your mouth. Just try using your tail more, or you’ll ingrain bad habits into your body during your developing.

There’s more? You ask, aghast, trying to turn to look at him over your shoulder. Aren’t I fully mer already?

You are. But your muscles are still growing, and becoming familiar with your new form. Not to mention your mind will also need time to catch up. He answers succinctly, with surprising coherency. Just try swimming to the floor, he suggests, easing his grip on your forearms, putting a little distance between your bodies, though you can still feel his hands poised to guide your palms away from motion.

But, tell me more about it, you push, trying to figure how to turn yourself over, to see him better. You’re able to catch the way his chest expands in what you think is probably a sigh. Frustration simmers in your chest, brows narrowing as you swiftly pull your arms away, using them to turn, much to his obvious disapproval. I still have people—…I still have someone up there, you think, gazing into his glittering, coal black eyes. Azriel blinks, features flattening to careful neutrality. Who?

I don’t— …I’m not telling you. You answer, head dipped but managing to hold his intense gaze. Tension simmers in your chest, so close to this new information.

You barely know how to swim from one place to another. You aren’t undergoing a shift.

So you’re just going to keep me here? You think sharply, brows narrowing. No, he replies, voice a little softer, you’re free to go where you like. But I’ll keep an eye on you.

I want to go back to being human, you snap, anger forming as your hands tighten into fists. I didn’t even get a choice in becoming like you in the first place, and now I don’t get a choice in returning?

A new moon will come again. We have one each month. Missing this one won’t mean you’ll never have the chance again.

I’m not wasting my time, Azriel, you think, a hint of panic rising to your tone. You may be accustomed to immortality—having enough time for everything—but we…humans don’t live forever! I have no guarantee that he…that my person will be there at the next new moon.

Azriel pauses, something passing behind his eyes.

Tell me who it is, he says, slightly tighter than usual. Maybe you’re waring at his temper.

Someone important, you yield, lips pressing together, someone dear to me.

Who?

Why does it matter? You grit out. He might not be alive by next month. Isn’t that a good enough reason to let me go? Or is the life of a human simply not worth it to you?

You’re putting words in my mouth, he thinks back, tail swishing as he calmly floats down toward the floor, and you’re forced to follow after him. Besides, becoming human and returning to that village… Someone will recognise you.

The transformation would happen overnight, wouldn’t it? Surely I could get back by morning? You push, slowly managing to shift to where he’s come to a halt, coincidentally by the rock you chose to sleep in.

You’re not going. He thinks quietly, though his attention is on the hollow of the stone, able to mark the indentation of the sand—how it dips down and curls in line with how you’d slept.

You stare at him silently, something a little too similar to hurt twinging across your chest. You’d apparently been hoping he was different. But it’s the same story.

Maybe it’ll take the same solutions.

Carefully steering a conversation, gently turning it to the right direction, without a soul knowing.

So you swim forward a little, coming to the lip of the hollow that he’s hovering above. Moving to be at his side, keeping your attention ahead. Would you not be able to change him into a mer, too? You think, careful to keep on topic without a sharp turn. Smoothly bending the flow.

Azriel shakes his head. There are…requirements, that need to be met in order for a transition to occur. We can’t just take humans here and there.

And you need humans because…?

We’re a dwindling species, he thinks quietly. Almost sadly. When an opportunity presents itself, we take it.

I was an opportunity?

Dark, glittering eyes flit to yours, taking in the tension of your jaw, the resentment tucked between your brows. I didn’t mean it like that, he tries, a glimmer of guilt working its way to his surface. It’s fine, you think back with obvious bitterness, we’re treated as objects above water, too. You move to pull yourself away, hands pressing down on barnacle-covered rock, when his palm settles around your wrist. Firm enough to be noticeable, but light enough for you to pull away.

You’re precious, he thinks quietly, features mostly neutral save for the softness at the edge of his irises. Because of what I stand for, right? Not because of who I am? You return, though you don’t pull away—allowing him to feel that control. It’s always about control.

His lips press into a thin line, and you nod slightly. That’s fine, you think quietly, holding his gaze, I’ll try not to let it go to my head.

I’m treating you as I would another mer who had never undergone a shift, he returns, his grip loosening further as you drift a little closer, enough to appear subconscious or accidental. It’s all about having power over people. Let him think he can draw you in.

As I said before, you can hardly swim in a straight line, and you will be recognised if you’re spotted above sea. You can imagine what might happen, he reasons gently.

And it would be a waste if I died, too, you return, resentment becoming more apparent. After all the work you put in to finding someone suitable. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

It’s for your safety. Don’t pretend like you can’t understand that.

No, I don’t understand it, you hiss, moving forward, brows narrowing, because above there is the only person left in this world that I care about, and you are coming between us. All because your fucked up species is too selfish to care for anything else. You drift closer, pulling your hand away to grip his wrist instead, tightly. And just maybe, if your kind weren’t snatching, stealing, and murdering sailors, there’d be more of you left.

His pupils contract, tension shifting beneath his pale blue skin, before he’s firmly withdrawing his wrist, putting a clear distance between you.

I understand you’re upset, he begins.

No, you don’t, you hiss, moving after him, you say you do, but—

I understand you’re distraught, and confused, he states again, sterner than before, though this time he doesn’t retreat at your approach. But that does not mean you can speak so disgracefully. To me, or about our kind. Something inside you flinches at the tone, tension coiling as you wait for the impact, bracing for pain.

You have only seen the end result of their process. You do not understand the pain they will subject us to, nor the degradation of being strung up along the shore for the rest of us to watch as our folk slowly bleed out, so close to their home.

You could swear you hear his voice lilt with emotion before it’s swiftly shut down, as if blocking out the building pressure of what having to witness that slow death does to a creature.

You are not undergoing a shift, he repeats firmly; finally. Not this time around.

He makes to turn, likely to leave, to give time for both of you to cool off, but your hand darts forward, gripping him until your nails are squeezing his skin, and he whirls back to you.

You’re just like him, you think lowly, close enough that—had you been human—you would be sharing breath. Close enough to count his eyelashes, to see the flecks of glittering black and storm cloud grey in his eyes. To number every tiny, shredding tooth that’s concealed by a deceptively soft-looking mouth.

At least Alaric wasn’t aware of how awful he was, you hiss lowly, moving closer still, free palm settling over his other hand, like you’re able to hold him to the ground. But you think you’re so much better. You condemn him, and pretend like you’re anything better and it’s despicable. I’ve just been taken from one cage to another, except in this one, the only beast I have to fear is you.

His eyes shutter, then he’s forcefully ripping his hands away from your hold, and there isn’t a single muscle in your body that amplifies the shockwave of fear that strikes through your body. As you recoil into yourself, eyes squeezing shut as you duck your head, bracing for the staging slap of his palm or the piercing bite of teeth.

Instead, all you feel is the slightly cooler swish of water against your front, the gentle brush of a shift in current.

You open your eyes in time to see his tail disappearing into one of the tunnels.

A shimmer of iridescent blue, and pearly white, vanished in a blink.

———

You find yourself slowly trailing after an octopus, pulling yourself along the sea bed at a similar speed to its friendly amble, tentacles stretching ahead as it swims idly through the coral.

Maybe it’s because you have no one else, but you feel a connection with the creature. One that arises from being granted the wonder to freely follow something through its life, to observe as it goes about satisfying its more common interests: how it peers beneath a rock (maybe looking to move house?), bringing a fragment from the floor (as if to appreciate it!), shifting its movements so it looks as though it’s skipping between the stones after having eaten something.

It’s been still for a while now, though, as if resting, and you’ve found a comfortable section of flattened rock to settle on, shimmering fishes occasionally swimming closer, as if to admire your own scales.

As much as you’d like to return to being human, you can appreciate the difference. Animals and other sea creatures almost seem to like you, no longer flitting away as soon as the water’s disturbed, but rather swishing to float along the currents. They seem to recognise you as one of them, rather than something that will hunt them. Playing nearer, until you’re worried some might get tangled in your hair. But they seem to have fun, darting between and through the floating strands.

You’ve no idea how long he’s gone for, and frankly, you’ve been trying not to think about it. When you think about it, you find a temper beginning to bubble, simmering in your cold blood. You don’t know enough about him to guess at why he refused so adamantly. Can’t understand the deep-rooted desire to keep his species alive, when humanity seems to be existing in every corner, like an infestation of some kind.

Still, it hurts a little to remind yourself his only interest was in changing you to become like him. It’s hard to admit, but you’d felt appreciated. Comforted. But you suppose, by nature, nothing will be that simple. You’ll never be able to truly become something animate in their minds. They seem to have more compassion for fish that for women.

At least a fish’s effort to escape is acknowledged. A woman’s is just beaten out of her until she’s fixed.

Are you enjoying following him?

You startle from your rock, peering about to try and locate him. It’s one drawback to being able to speak mind-to-mind: you have no way of telling direction.

He’s swimming down from another tunnel opening—separate from the one he disappeared into—coming to a pause a more than healthy distance away from you. Really more than heathy.

There’s not much else to do down here, save for looking at things, you reply, not quite able to bring yourself to remove your attention from him. Too wary to do so after your last conversation.

He’ll sleep for another hour or so, Azriel thinks to you, nodding back to the quiet octopus who’s tucked himself up. You might want to find something else to look at.

I think I already have, you reply warily, keeping your gaze on him as you shift atop the smooth rock, not taking your eyes away from where he’s floating.

Why are you here? You ask, tail stretching out to hang off the ledge. Am I not allowed to be here? He replies, glancing throughout the cave. You don’t feel his attention leave you, though.

You left rather abruptly. I’m assuming you had a reason to come back. You counter, regarding him neutrally. Cautiously.

He waits for a few moments, before tentatively swimming forward, delicate swishes of his tail having him drift through the sea, and you shift yourself up and away a bit when he makes to settle on your rock.

Do you still want to go above? He asks quietly. Eyes on you.

Your brows furrow, narrowing as you pin him with a resentful look. I suppose you weren’t listening, earlier? You remark, subtly moving closer to the edge of the rock.

I suppose you have no manners, either? He replies, though it’s without any bite. I have nothing to say to you.

Do you still want to go above?

You remain pointedly quiet. He’s already said he won’t allow you to go, so there’s no point in answering. It’ll likely only boost his ego, knowing you want to leave, but that he’s keeping you here.

Do you still want to leave? He repeats, I won’t know unless you tell me.

Your brow narrows, hands curling as nails press into your palms, trying to find something else to observe. To direct your attention to.

Something brushes against your tail, firm but smooth as it drags lightly over the scales. Deliberately, and you swiftly glance over your shoulder, to see what it is.

The large fins at the base of his tail are gliding over your own, stroking up the spine of the long limb, brushing against it in gentle motions. Your throat rolls, but you don’t make the effort to move away. Instead you meet his gaze, remembering how his eyes had gleamed with an array of hidden colours, suitable for under sea.

I do, you reply tersely. Quietly.

He nods, holding your gaze. Then we’ll go.

We? You ask, slightly skeptical.

We. He repeats, his tail coming to a rest from its soothing motions, settling over your own.

Your lips press together, briefly glancing away, thinking, before you turn back to him, nodding. Okay.

————

So…how does it actually work? You think, awkwardly holding him as you attempt to move in time with his instructions.

We don’t know exactly why these points exist, or what caused them to, but there are certain places that seem to exist with more magic than others, he explains quietly, holding you steady. Some folk think it’s best not to wonder, while others theorise it’s to do with ley lines overlapping, creating an energy strong enough to fuel a transformation.

Azriel had told you he would take you to one of their moon pools, supposedly the only pool near Blackwater you’d be able to reach in time—and also the only pool that would allow you to return to something resembling human. With no other method of transportation, and Azriel deeming your strange half-crawl, half-swim method of movement to be too slow, you’d ended up in this position: your palms settled at the tops of his forearms, while he holds your elbows, theoretically helping to keep you streamlined while making sure you won’t resort to using your arms for swimming. He’s able to hasten your speed, while also helping you become more familiar with the muscles and tendons in your tail.

Though the pace is still slow, both by human and mer standards.

Ley lines? You ask, peering up at him, but his eyes flick down to where you’ve stopped moving, and you restart into motion. It would be easier to show you, but essentially lines drawn to connect significant structures from our history. Throughout the centuries—even millennia—different civilisations have risen and faded, each leaving their marks on the sea bed. There are still mysteries surrounding their collapse, but from some fragments that remain, questions have cropped up relating to certain consistencies. Architecture that should be impossible, long-lost tunnel systems that seem designed to confuse and trap, cave engravings that line up suspiciously with our own history—history that would have been their future.

Moon pools seem to exist where these lines overlap, which some consider to be signs. Others think the world is founded in patterns, and detail—were it not, none of us would exist. We are all fleetingly complex systems of chance and evolution.

That sounds…fascinating, you concede, watching him with interest. To think the mer had the awareness to document their existence, as if understanding it’s not a guarantee they will live on… Acknowledging their gradual disintegration, while remaining free of its fear. It’s admirable.

Moon pools bring out an ancient magic from the surrounding earth, though they can be dangerous. As creatures of the sea, the moon is at the centre of our world, the foundation of many prayers and fables passed down through mind. A new moon is the absence of that stability, hence it turns us into something not. Bringing us up from the waters and onto land, splitting our tails into legs. That sort of change can damage our anatomy, and has in the past, when used incorrectly.

You know how to use it right, right? You ask, peering up at him as you try to remember your motion, attempting to keep up with him as he holds you steady. He nods in answer, nothing bad will happen to you.

So what happens after I…after we go back…I mean, when we change into humans?

Clothes are left for use by the pool, so you have no need for worry. But once we’re above ground, the task will be returning to your village. You will have to guide the way to your… He trails off, watching you silently, waiting for an answer.

You miss the signal, and nod. Okay, you think, gills fluttering with a deeper breath, I can do that. Will you wait on the outskirts?

His hold temporarily tightens on you, the roughened pads of his fingers pressing against your skin before loosening again. I will be coming with you.

But you’re so noticeable, you think back. You’ll draw attention. It’ll be better and quicker if I go by myself.

I will either be there with you, or we will not go at all. It would be irresponsible to let you return on your own, he reasons firmly.

I can manage myself, you return, I understand your point, but I know my village. Having you there might scare someone away.

I can keep to the shadows, he replies.

You peer at him doubtfully. He seems quite big compared to you…Will that be reflected in a human form? You have no idea what the scale would be like.

Okay. But I want privacy, when we get there, you push, following his motions as he guides you through another tunnel, the pale blue lights beginning to fade, replaced by an iridescent shimmer along the walls, like powdered stars. I don’t want to have you looming in a corner the entire time. Please allow me to speak with him alone.

Azriel is about to reply, to think that he won’t be leaving you for a single moment while in such dangerous territory, but you continue, pupils shuttering a little.

…Especially if I might have to be saying goodbye.

His jaw tightens at the obvious sadness in your thoughts. The deep-soaked pain, and loss. He doesn’t want to be listening to this.

You can go into a separate room, he relents, but you will have to be able to leave quickly if something happens. In other words, he doesn’t want you to use this last chance to physically take this man into your body. His teeth grind at the thought alone. Don’t do anything stupid.

I won’t, you reply, unaware of those un-communicated thoughts, just trying to figure out what you’ll tell him. How to ever explain your situation. You hope he won’t be scared.

Your eyes seem to wander of their own accord, moving from the iridescent walls, powdered with shimmer light, to plants perking from the rock, their ends glowing faintly as if to guide the way. The thought starts with a question, curious if he curated these tunnels too, perfectly placing these lovely fascinations at well-timed intervals to keep the caves light and in-oppressive, to transforming itself into a visual wonder of, perhaps, slightly morbid appreciation.

The tales you’d been raised on still have a place in your mind—they’d been true about the shredding teeth, their affinity for dexterity and agility beneath the deceptively calm surface of water. And yet they’d spoken nothing about the unearthly beauty.

Perhaps it’s just him though.

After all, he’s the only one you’ve encountered. Are there many others? He’d mentioned they were a dwindling species, but…

Something on your mind? He thinks, eyes glittering, and you realise you’ve been staring. How long had you been zoned out for?

Why have you been looking after me? You ask, holding his steady gaze, taking in the softness to the edge of his mouth. How his ears flutter slightly as something brushes by, but his attention remains on you.

As opposed to…? He returns, shifting your course once again, directing you toward a tunnel that has a slight upward tilt to it. There are more of you aren’t there? You push cautiously. You said that cave was fashioned after a Rainbow, so there must be more of you somewhere. And earlier you spoke like groups of mer existed to examine past events, and remnants of their buildings. Why not bring me to wherever the rest of your kind are?

Azriel is quiet for a pause, and you wait curiously, watching him steadily. It almost feels like hesitance.

You need time to become accustomed to your surroundings, he replies at last. Your mind needs to adjust to this new life, so it would be unwise to bring you to the centre of our civilisation, where you would likely be overwhelmed.

Your brows narrow as you watch him. It feels like the truth but…not all of it. Like he’s leaving something out. But maybe that’s just you reading into the infection of his thoughts too much. You don’t even know if they have a different method of intonation beneath the sea, or if thought suffices for intention.

No other reason? You push, regarding him cautiously.

He raises a brow, what other reason would I have?

Well that’s why I’m asking, you think, because I don’t know.

A noise enters your mind that sounds similar to a hum, and your spine prickles, making you shudder, ears fluttering. His pupils mark the reaction with a strange intensity, before increasing the pace a little, tail brushing lightly against your own, as if encouraging you to put in more effort. I suppose I might have wanted to see what sort of person you were, he thinks, and you wonder if you’ve subconsciously drifted closer to him.

What’s that supposed to mean? You ask skeptically, peering at him. Is there something I could have done to make you leave me?

Perhaps.

Like what?

Now why would you need to know that? He asks, amusement clear, eyes twinkling as his mouth curves at the edges, thumbs lightly grazing the bone of your elbow as his tail again flicks against you own.

Your expression shifts into one of displeasure, brows pulling together in distaste. Please just answer.

He seems to be thinking in his own mind for a bit, and you watch carefully, wondering if you’ll catch any hints to what’s passing through his head.

Perhaps if you hated us so viscerally… he answers slowly, quietly. That would have complicated things…would have muddied the choices, a little.

Choices?

With what to do with you. How to progress.

You couldn’t have just turned me back into a human using the moon pool?

We only look like humans, he thinks quietly, watching you. You can never return to one.

You blink, lips parting a little before remembering to keep them closed, keeping your mouth filled with air to prevent water rushing in. You said… but you trail off, letting it dawn on you all over again. Then why are there clothes ready? You ask. What happens if you don’t return to the moon pool in time?

The you’re simply stranded until the next new moon. The clothes are there for when folk might wish to be above ground for…longer.

But not as something entirely human.

That’s right, he replies softly, thumbs brushing your skin.

A quiet settles between you, but you try not to let it lower your spirits. You’ll be on two legs again regardless, and you’ll get to say goodbye to him. Though you hate that he’ll be the one to see you go first.

It should never have to be that way.

So what were the choices you mentioned? You ask a touch quietly, easing in a calming breath.

Those don’t matter anymore, he thinks gently, you’re adjusting well.

I want to know. You push, wanting something to focus on. There’s still so much you don’t know about his kind. About mer folk.

Azriel goes silent, his eyes taking on that strange intensity again that at one point had made your insides squirm with discomfort. Now you just hold it, levelling him with your own gaze. Eventually though, he blinks, glancing elsewhere, chest deflating in what you can guess is a sigh.

A strange tension seems to shift beneath his features, carving his expression into one of seriousness.

When you made the choice to cut me free… he begins slowly. Softly.

Do you remember what you had been thinking, when you did it?

Your throat rolls, casting your mind back to that day. Those hours where everything changed. Those few minutes, where a choice had been made. One that had arguably altered the course of your life.

I was thinking what they’d do to you, if your were found, you manage quietly. About how I’d thought it was an unnecessary act of violence, one routed in hatred and revenge, and that a conflict that continuously took lives would never be resolved.

Something flits past behind his gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to even catch its trail.

I thought it would be hypercritical of me to leave you. That not helping would be as good as condemning you myself. You manage, grip loosening as you’re called back to the thundering shudder of wooden boards, groaning and creaking as Alaric had approached.

I thought it would be better to save you.

Despite all the stories you’d been fed, Azriel thinks quietly, pace slowing a little, drifting unnoticeably closer. You decided to save a monster.

I don’t think you’re a monster.

But that’s what I was in that moment. Wasn’t I? You didn’t know any different.

You didn’t feel like a monster, you return.

The lowest part of your tail makes a small movement, brushing against him.

Exteriors can be deceiving, he warns softly.

Sometimes they can, you reply, quieter. Not always. But what does that have to do with it all?

Your intention, he almost whispers, so close now. Close enough to again catch a glimpse of the spectrum contained within his irises, glowing with a smattering of stars from the powdery cave light. Close enough to fully see the soft sections of his features, hidden beneath the unforgiving exteriors that you’d almost been fooled by. Close enough to pick out the hint of emotion he’s unable to conceal, raw, and blinding, and—

You recoil in a blink, jerking away as your hands frantically cross over your chest, your breasts having grazed the bare skin of his torso.

You blink with shock, having become so accustomed to your own nakedness, but now overwhelmingly aware of how bare you are. Your skin hasn’t become any less sensitive from shifting to a mer—everything is just as responsive—and your heart pounds with a drive so intense you can feel it in your stomach.

The breath puffs from your gills heavily, caught off guard by the force of your own reaction, arms still covering your breasts as you shift backward. Something brushes just shy of the nape of your neck, a mere finger’s-width from the height of your spine, and something tingling and exhilarating bursts through your blood, flinching away from the wall, hand now slapping over the spot.

Gods above, you think, heart still pounding wildly in your chest, using your hands and tail to shift to see what it was that had brushed so tantalisingly against your skin.

A small plant stares back at you, and you sigh again, returning your attention to him.

Sorry about that, you think, I was startled. You force your arms to remain at your sides as you make to shift closer, hands gliding up to settle at the tops of his powerful forearms.

It’s fine, he replies, though his movements seem a little stiff, his tail less flexible than before. You might find your spine and sternum to be more acute to touch, than before.

My sternum? You ask, peering up at him. Where’s that?

Muscle flexes beneath your fingertips, before calming, and he gestures to the bone down his chest, joining his ribs. Careful not to touch.

You blink, before nodding, looking down at yourself, raising your hand to your chest.

Azriel visibly stiffens, but remains silent as your fingers brush against the bone—between your breasts. Sure enough, that tingling feeling returns, pulse spiking, tiny muscles fluttering beneath your touch, and you hum, the edges of your mouth curving faintly.

I didn’t know you had such obvious weak spots, you think, at last returning your palms to his forearms. Good to know.

He doesn’t reply. Just holds you lightly as he begins moving again, tail shifting with less fluidity than before.

Your brows furrow, wondering at his silence. Did you say something wrong?

Anyway… you think, attention flitting about before settling on him. What were you going to say?

But he shakes his head, eyes flicking to a light at the end of the tunnel. Moonlight spilling into the water.

We’re here.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

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az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #mermaid au #mer!azriel #tdot #the dregs of tragedy

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tadpolesonalgae · 4 months

Text

Mer!Azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 4

A/N: a full twenty minutes of italicising later…

Word Count: 3,848

-Part 3- -Part 5-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The water cools the aching sizzle to your skin, firm, powerful arms wrapped around your waist, a single palm pressed between your shoulder blades.

Eyes crack open, and you suddenly realise you can’t breathe.

Muscles seize, locking as contractions rip through your body, spasming and clenching as you thrash against his constraints. Scarified fingers firmly stroke over your ribs, gills stuttering to life again as air is hauled down into painfully tight lungs.

Moments pass, calming your heartbeat, settling back into the powerful lines of his body, tail brushing idly against your bound legs, still taking care to monitor and measure. The bones in your legs ache, but not as much—little enough you find yourself wrapping your arms around his back, cheek remaining against his shoulder as you’re swept back into the depths of unconsciousness.

————

When you return to the world, he’s taken you above water, thumbing away mischievous strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, plastering themselves to your skin.

“How do you feel?” He rasps lowly, forearm kept securely at the dip of your spine.

You blink wearily up at him, wishing to sink back into the water, finding the air too hot, too muggy. “How much longer?” You croak, head ducking into your shoulders, wanting to submerge yourself. “Likely a few more hours until the aches fade,” he responds, “you should stretch. It will help tomorrow, learning how to control your movements.”

That gets your attention, pushing up and away a little, enough so you can peer into his large, onyx gaze, able to see your reflection in his— Good Gods. You watch in the depthless black as fingers trace your skin, watching your own movements, pressing lightly to the lids of your eyes, now as round as his, equally dark. Ears stick from the sides of your head, like spines joined together by a thin layer of skin—similar to the webbed footing of sea creatures.

“What…?”

“It’s over,” he rasps, skin prickling beneath his touch as his hand soothes your back, sensitivity rippling across the area, a feeling of dizziness washing over you with such force you feel winded. His eyes widen marginally, hand snatching away, darting down to your side, vacating your spine hastily. Your pulse beats heavily in your ears, loud enough you could swear you hear the blood rushing. Breaths ease in and out, filling your chest as your heart begins to slow again.

“What’s over?” You manage, mind frazzled from the sudden torrent of sensitivity that’s racing across your skin, feeling tingly but…good. His throat rolls, and you mark it absently, eyes dropping briefly before returning to his, hardly aware of your own actions. He nods his head, and you follow his look. Instead of a pair of legs below you, lies a long, iridescent tail, sparkling with tiny, glittering scales.

You inhale sharply, startling as you automatically try to kick away from the foreign appendage but it moves with you. Azriel’s hands tighten on your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging into the supple skin of your waist, keeping you from propelling yourself back into the barnacle-covered wall. Shakily, and with immense effort, you manage to still the writhing limb, finally settling to a halt.

“What— When did that happen?” You whisper hoarsely, hands subconsciously gripping the muscle of his upper arms, using him to anchor yourself. “While you were asleep,” he rasps in return. “You slept through it.” The edges of his mouth soften slightly, amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. “But I had hours left,” you argue quietly, “you said it would hurt, and would last until sunrise.”

“It’s past sunrise,” he answers, tail brushing against yours, making it flinch with curiosity.

You blink in surprise. “It’s…past sunrise…?” You repeat doubtfully, making the corners of his soft mouth quirk further. “Recently past,” he corrects, still with that gleam to his eyes.

“So it’s over…” you murmur hesitantly. “I’m not…it’s gone?” He nods, keeping you still in the water. “Are you ready to swim out?” He asks, and again you feel doubt flutter in the fit of your stomach at the raspy tone. “Swim out?” You question, brows fashioning themselves into a skeptical line. “Your muscles will begin aching and cramping shortly if they aren’t already, so it’s best to start using them to familiarise yourself with our movements.”

Not knowing how else to respond, you nod uncertainly—is he going to take you out from this cave?

“Remember to breathe,” he instructs quietly, before pulling you under, the cool sea water instantly soothing the warmth of your steadily drying hair. Gills flutter open, bringing in air via tiny capillaries, and he guides you down through the submerged tunnels. Though he doesn’t speak, you swear you can see amusement in his gaze while he swims leisurely through the water, watching as you gingerly pull yourself along the rock cave, tail occasionally twitching when you move to press your feet into the stone.

When you reach open water, you hesitate, peering out from the safety of the dark tunnel, staring into the open expanse of water before you—nothing but blue.

Scared?

You flinch, head snapping in his direction, shooting a scathing glare. His laugh echoes in your mind, hairs rising at the nape of your neck, something squirming in the pit of your stomach at the sound. What— How are you doing that? You think warily, fingers gripping tight to the jagged rock. He swims forward, and you instinctively want to shift further back into the cave but stand your ground.

How do you think we communicate underwater? He asks, hand beckoning you forward, out into the open. Doubtfully, you take it, palm pressing to his as you try to wiggle your tail. He blinks briefly, before his mouth softens almost imperceptibly, reaching out his other hand for you to hold.

I hadn’t thought about it, you answer honestly, focus directed on staring down at your tail, trying to connect the muscles to movement. So you can all freely communicate with one another? Anytime you want? You ask, shifting your gaze to meet his.

There are some requirements that need to be met, he replies, but for the most part, that’s right.

Your brow furrows. Why couldn’t you call for help when you were stranded? Surely you could have called for someone?

One of the requirements, he repeats, dodging the question. Curiosity licks up your spine, and you fix your gaze on him. You said we couldn’t have that conversation then, you remind him, but did you know my husband?

I thought we agreed he wasn’t your husband.

Your tail flicks sharply with irritation, sending you abruptly lancing forward. Azriel’s hands tighten on yours before swiftly moving to your shoulders, keeping you in place, moving so he’s slightly below you in the open water. A muscle in your jaw ticks, but you remember to keep your lips sealed shut. Did you know Alaric? You reiterate, fixing your gaze on him. In a sense, he replies casually, large dark eyes locked with your own, intensity simmering within the glittering onyx.

Stop avoiding the question, you seethe quietly, brow tightening. Give me a straight answer.

How about I give you an answer once you’ve figured out how to swim a little?

You glare at him begrudgingly, but relent. It’s not like you can force him to tell you. You’ll just have to go along with him for now. How do I do it? You ask, attempting to shift your tail in the motions he uses.

Azriel’s lips lift at the edges, before he’s shifting below you, hands coming to rest on your waist as if he’s lying on his back. Try just moving slowly, seeing what connects to where. Then become accustom with those movements. You send him a doubtful look, then try what he’s suggested. It sends you tipping forward, hands flying to press against his shoulders, keeping you from knocking him in the head with your own.

No sound enters your mind, but you feel his mirth whisper along your bones, warm and soft. It takes a while, but eventually you’re able to move how you want, but there are so many muscles it’s difficult to remember what goes where.

Now try rolling your tail, he instructs, and you stare at him blankly. Like I do, he reminds, a deep chuckle underlying his words. Azriel shifts again, and his hand brushes across the bare skin of your stomach. You bite back on the instinct to jerk away from the intimate touch. Most of your control will start here, he guides, palm splayed out, your pulse picking up as skin tingles. The muscles that connect to the tendon start here, and near the base of your spine. Then lower are the ones that help with angling your fins.

Before you can clock what he’s doing, his hand has slid lower, past your abdomen, moving to slip between— He pulls away, having spotted the way your muscles contracted. There’s nothing there for you to worry about, he reminds wryly, having you shoot him a heated look, lips pressed tight together. Keep your hands to yourself, you think back, having his own lips quirk.

He releases you, swimming out and away, coming to a stop the distance of about three small fishing boats away from you. Arms open tauntingly, hands beckoning with a gleam in his charcoal black gaze. Come over here, and I’ll answer your question, he challenges.

Are you serious? You snap, already feeling like you’re sinking despite not moving thanks to the air steadily flowing in and out of your lungs. Are you no longer interested? He asks.

Teeth grit together, and you instinctively open your arms to balance, feeling sensitive and overexposed in the water, no clothing concealing your skin from his intense eyes.

Slowly, you begin to shift your tail, moving haphazardly, with quick, jerking movements. This is ridiculous, you mutter, arms flailing as you try to keep in a straight line. You have to learn somehow, he counters, waiting patiently without hurrying you along. Allowing you to figure things out on your own.

After what feels like hours, the pads of your fingers brush over top his shoulders, broad and powerful palms settling around your waist, connecting you together. That was good, he says into your mind, you just need to practice, then you’ll be able to swim freely.

Don’t divert, you reply, staring at him, mind aching from frustration and concentration. His mouth shifts into a faint smile, soft and muted, and you become aware of the placement of his hands. The rough but gentle press of his fingers into the supple skin of your waist. You knew Alaric.

The smile slips away, mouth settling into a serious set. I did.

For how long? You ask, peering up into his onyx eyes.

I’ve known about his family line since humans settled there.

So a long time, you push quietly.

A long time indeed, he replies, signs of amusement long gone. Your brow dips at the seriousness of his expression. What happened? You ask, wariness lacing your tone. His features remain neutral, eyes unreadable, no matter how deep you try to peer into his mind.

Mer are difficult to kill for humans, but not impossible, he begins quietly. The scale he wears around his neck is one I know, and was familiar with. You wait for him to continue, but he seems reluctant to give anymore, and you feel hesitant to push. You have no idea how recent this is for him, only that you first noticed the scale a few years ago. Does time feel the same for him, or is a couple of years similar to mere months?

Was the person special to you? You ask quietly, wary of prodding old wounds.

As special as most of mer are to one another, he answers, as a dwindling species, we have to look after our own and take care of ourselves.

So how did you end up caught in that wire? His expression hardens, skin prickling at the look, unable to remove your gaze from his, a magnetic pull keeping you attached.

They’ve begun lacing wire with a poison that reacts to our kind. A nick alone could be fatal to a child with how badly it reacts with our magic, he explains calmly, ice underling his tone. And that wire had the poison on? You ask, already having guessed at the answer. He nods, and your eyes drop to his throat, voice still raspy from where it had sliced and constricted. It’ll heal, he says quietly into your mind, reading the question in your gaze. Or perhaps you’d already thought it aloud.

I’m sorry that happened to you, you think softly, still watching him silently, unable to look away. The pads of his fingers press a little harder into the softness of waist, but you don’t try to wriggle away. I’m sorry you ended up with a husband like him, he replies, having your features sour. But then they soften a little. I don’t think it was all bad, you murmur. Azriel’s brow narrows, peering down at you.

Don’t try and make excuses for him, he warns lowly, you didn’t deserve someone who hurt you.

I wasn’t going to make excuses for him, you reply tersely, features shifting to match his own before relaxing. But I wouldn’t have gotten out otherwise.

He watches you silently, an indiscernible expression upon his features, something flickering through his gaze at your admission.

Maybe it isn’t all bad.

————

Much to your irritation, he’d made you swim most of the way back to the cave system, saying it would help to get as much practice in as possible to help keep the aches at bay. At least until your body is fully healed from the sudden change. He’d taken you through another series of tunnels, leading deeper and deeper, going slowly to make sure you didn’t crash into any of the walls.

The cave opens up into a large cavern, and sea water nearly fills your mouth, fighting to resist the urge to part your lips in awe.

Before you is a magnificent cavern, lit by glowing little creatures that stick to the walls, multi-coloured coral scattered across the sandy bottom like a hand-knitted blanket. A beautiful arrangement of aquamarine blues, waterlily pinks, and starfish oranges. Seaweed coats the walls in thick patches, waving like tall grass with the current that passes through the tunnels. Speckled, shimmering fish dart in and out from smoothed out stones littered in mother-of-pearl shells, shimmering like silver as colourful tails flicker with energetic life. Across the floor tiny crabs scuttle, painted a pretty red like the horizon on a clear sunset.

What is this place? You manage to think, eyes darting repeatedly from one side of the cavern to the other, each time picking out new things to peer at and examine. The edges of Azriel’s mouth lift into a smile, and he swims deeper, evidently familiar with the haven. I made it, he responds, passing through a patch of seaweed, small fishes already gathering and moving with him, tiny flashes of silver as they match his speed and direction.

You made it? You echo, staring at him.

Well, some of it was already here, he replies, and you can hear the low laughter in his tone, deep and rich. I didn’t carve the cave out, that was already here. Same as the coral. But the creatures and a few other other things—I brought those in.

You stare in wonder at the cave, so beautiful and thriving with life and an undercurrent of energy. It’s amazing, you think as he swims up to your side, making to bring you further into his world—still at the lip of the tunnel. There’s another cave like this, deeper out at sea, he thinks, and you manage to rip your gaze from the cavern, sensing what he’s about to say is important. It’s called the Rainbow, he says quietly, it’s much larger than here. The coral is thicker, life is more prominent, and the whole place glows.

Eyes blink, trying to comprehend a place more beautiful. Is that what made you want to create this? You question softly, meeting his onyx gaze. The Rainbow? He nods, inky hair swaying with the motion. Come, he says, there are more creatures at the bed.

You don’t have it in you to resist as he swims to be above you, hands gently latching to your hips as he helps guide you lower, able to see more flashes of colour as life becomes apparent. More crabs scuttling, tall and spiralling sea shells that gleam with pearl, strange purple blobs that have a slightly red hue and look gooey and gelatinous. Starfishes are plastered to the rock, colourful plants that look like tubes sticking out while fishes dart about the bed, stirring up wisps of sand.

How long did this take? You ask him, managing to swim lower as he releases you, lips stretching when you peer beneath a rock, finding a red and blue speckled octopus napping in the shade. Centuries, he responds, watching as you explore, pulse thumping in his chest. It’s still developing, and will continue to do so long after I’m gone.

You swim further, selecting a shell to pick up, examining it in the pretty lights, watching how the colours shine across its surface. A red, white, and black striped fish swims past, and you follow after it, using your hands to scale the rock instead of your tail.

Try swimming, he reminds, chuckling. You won’t get any better if you crawl everywhere like that. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, the fish vanishing from sight in the brief moments you looked away. It’s been less than a day, you snap, pulling yourself along the rock stubbornly. I’m allowed to take a break from practicing. Besides, if I solely use my tail, I’ll end up looking like you.

Looking like me? He asks, mirth clear, and you feel the rush of water as he swims by, dipping behind a nearby rock. Yes, you reply, narrowing your eyes at where you last saw him, but you’re steadily realising there are so many spots to hide, with the large stones, the coral, and the thick seaweed.

And what do you mean by that? He asks lowly, and you look behind yourself, checking to see if you can spot him, the water feeling eerily still without his visible presence. You turn to survey the expanse before you, and he glides up from a dip between the rock you’re perched on, coming to a stop before you, but you refuse to yield your ground. I’m a woman, you say, as if it’s self-explanatory. You certainly are, he replies, eyes gleaming with something that has your skin prickling. Tightening. It takes quite a lot of effort not to pull back, to keep your ground when he’s so close before you. But I don’t understand what that has to do with not being able to move efficiently.

You roll your eyes, stomach fluttering as tiny fishes dart around your hair, brushing against the bare skin of your arms. I don’t need all those muscles, you say as nonchalantly as possible, giving him a dismissive look. Maybe not all of them, he concedes, a faint smile on his lips, pushing forward a little. But some of them, if you want to swim.

Of course I want to swim, you counter, wondering if you imagined him coming forward. Just not now. My stomach hurts from all the movement.

That’s good, he responds, that faint smile still playing on soft lips.

It’s painful, you reply, frowning. I don’t like it.

It means you’ve used them, he says, and you swear he moves forward again.

I suppose I don’t have the best relationship with pain, you think, then blink, eyes widening. The smile slides from his face, and you tense. You weren’t— I just mean pain is pain. Obviously I don’t like it.

You make to turn away, but rough, scarified palms slide overtop your hands, keeping them gently but firmly pressed to the smooth stone, preventing you from breaking off from him.

You don’t have to lie to me, he says, watching you silently, eyes locked with your own, and you once again find yourself unable to pull away. You don’t have to hide it from me.

Because you saw him try to kill me? You manage wryly, fingers pressing against a small group of barnacles.

Because you’re out, he replies, hands sliding to fully encompass your own, thumbs swiping at the skin.

Head dips down, peering at the way his hands have latched over yours. The flecks of colour in the rock, speckled about.

Will you tell me how you got those? You ask, trying to change the subject. His hands tense over yours, and his attention slides downward also, the two of you observing how your palms are intertwined. This isn’t a conversation for now, he says, and you feel more than see his walls building up. Hands pull away from yours, and before you can help yourself you’ve moved forward. Palms shakily pressing overtop his own, reversing your previous position so the pads of his fingers are the ones against the small group of barnacles.

Was it from humans? You ask silently, peering into those deep, dark eyes. Is that why you don’t like us?

I got them from other mer, he replies shortly, but quietly, tension clear in the powerful frame of his figure. Shock sparks in your chest, blinking as you stare at him. A—mer? A mer did that to you? But aren’t those—

Burn marks.

Your throat rolls, and your hands pull away, enough to reveal the scarred flesh beneath. His gaze weighs into you, emotion heavy but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly what it is.

My—… Alaric once set my hair on fire, you admit quietly, peering down at his hands so you don’t have to see what’s in his expression. He tipped the table over, and a candle got mixed up. I had to have it cut short because such a large portion was burned off. Thumbs swipe across the rough skin, how he’d done for you, and you manage to meet his eyes. Depthless and dark.

Peer quietly at the warped flesh, twisted and swollen from the burning lick of flames, sizzled and popped to mould it into what it is now.

You manage to meet his gaze, deep and swirling, like a whirlpool, suctioning you deeper into his mind. I’m sorry that happened to you, Azriel, you think, holding his attention, fingers still settled over his. Something beginning to shift and soften between you. Something quiet and ineffable.

He swallows, but nods briefly. I’m sorry your husband did that to you.

No smile raises your lips, but amusement curls with your tone. Ex-husband.

Right, he returns, something dancing in those onyx eyes of his. Ex-husband.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalaluch @v3lv3tf0x @acourtofbatboydreams @coureurs-de-bois9

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #mer!azriel #mermaid au #tdot #🧜‍♂️⚓️🪸

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