Dark Waters Rising

Red

A/N

Warning: a tad bit of gore ahead.

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"Stay behind me!" Cassius yanked Evander behind his back as a few legged sirens crawled over the lip of the ship. He held his sword up, watching all three of the creatures as they stalked closer to the pair with tridents outstretched and armor cascading water. Judging by the sounds around him, there were more boarding the ship and taking up arms against his crew. 

"Stand down," Evander said firmly, pushing Cassius aside to address the soldiers. "As your prince I command it."

"You are a traitor, not a prince," one of them spat.

Evander was once again yanked behind Cassius as the man's other arm brought up his sword to block the jab of a trident. Locked by the friction and force between the weapons, Cassius quickly adjusted his angle to shed the trident away from him and free his sword to pivot and meet the blow of another attacker. 

When the new siren smirked and twisted his trident, Cassius let his sword fly out of his grip in favor of ripping the twin daggers out of his belt and lunging forward into the creature. He found a gap in the armor just beneath the ribcage and drove the blades up into the man's chest. Knowing he would need a bit more for a killing blow, he immediately wrenched out the daggers and plunged one in through the man's mouth. 

Without missing a beat, he sank into a crouch, missing a swipe from another trident, and driving his blade into the calf of his foe. The woman collapsed with a shrill scream, only to meet the same fate as her companion when she fell toward the pirate captain. 

He was a graceful fighter, and clearly experienced. It all happened in the blink of an eye. He was brilliant, and not afraid to fight dirty. However, Evander had a less graceful method. 

When the third siren faded away from Cassius's swift advance, Evander took the opportunity to thwack his cane against the back of the man's knees. He fell heavily onto the deck, and while Evander returned the cane to its proper use with a stumble, Cassius finished the man off.

"I need to get to Ambrose or Wesley," Evander said, gripping Cassius's arm and pulling him closer so he could hear him over the fighting. 

"Why?" 

"I'm useless in this form. It is clumsy and untrained. I can fight much better in the water."

This time Cassius gripped both of his arms, pushing Evander's back into a mast, and making sure he was making himself clear. "That's not happening. They'll eat you alive the moment you touch that water."

"They're my people."

"You're a traitor to them," Cassius said. "Please. Just let me protect you."

Evander opened his mouth to reply but immediately cut himself off when he spotted something over Cassius's shoulder. "Look out!"

Evander had tried to push Cassius to the side, out of the way of the flying trident, but the man had instead moved into the path of the projectile. Three barbed spikes pierced out of the front of his chest, stopping just inches away from sinking into Evander's. The prince's eyes went wide with horror as the cream-colored shirt bloomed with three crimson flowers.

"That's going to leave a mark," Cassius struggled to say as red spilled past his lips.

All Evander could see was red. First as blood, and then as anger. When the offending siren walked up and wrenched his weapon from Cassius's back, Evander leapt forward, throwing all of his weight at the man who also did not have much practice using his legs. The sudden weight was a surprise for the man, who stumbled backwards, unable to balance. Evander used the moment to shove the man's helmet off, and before the man could recover, he lunged forward again and sank his teeth deep into the siren's throat. After tearing out a chunk of flesh, causing them both to fall, Evander spat quickly and stole the trident for his own. He used it for support to stand before walking on his own to where Cassius was sitting leaned up against the mass.

He stopped just in front of the man, gripping the trident and frowning when he saw a smirk on Cassius's bloody lips. 

"Remind me to never upset you," he ducked his head in a nod of respect, blue eyes glinting with amusement while never leaving Evander's, "Your Majesty."

Evander dropped to his knees and set aside the trident in favor of tearing open Cassius's shirt. Much to his amazement, the wound was already scabbed, and nearly to the point of scarring over. It was accompanied by a slew of other, older scars, each unique but likely similar in story.

"You heal faster than a siren," he breathed.

"Curious isn't it? I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

Evander nodded, accepting the cane that Cassius handed him before helping the man to his feet. Armed with both his walking aid and the preferred weapon of his people, Evander stood beside his mate prepared to face anything. 

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"Wesley," Ambrose called out to his son, who joined him below deck. The sounds of the battle above were audible, but distant. Instead, the more prominent sounds that greeted them were of the creatures scraping and striking the hull in an attempt to rupture it. 

Ambrose's eyes were closed as he focused his energy on the ships. His hands rested on his knees, palms upturned as they cupped two small shells that represented the vessels. Wesley's eyes were trained on the walls of the ship, wondering if it would hold.

"I'm here," Wesley tore his eyes away, walking closer to his father, lit only by the flame of an oil lamp.

"There are many wielders beneath us. I can feel their magic fighting my wards."

"Can you hold it?" he asked, worried. 

"Maybe," was the man's response. "But I need help."

Wesley walked closer, taking a seat directly in front of his father. "I can try to, but I'm still rather new to magic."

"That's okay," Ambrose said. "Put your hands beneath mine and close your eyes."

Wesley did, cupping the back of his father's hands gently as to not disturb the shells. 

"Imagine the shells are the ships and that we are giants standing in the waves. Forces from below wish to sink them, but our hands form a barrier that keeps them safe."

Wesley's hands were starting to tingle. The backs of them anyway. Not long after, that tingling sensation turned into distinguishable pinpricks. The pain was present, but manageable. 

"Is it supposed to hurt?"

"A little," Ambrose said. "We may even bleed."

Wesley had a feeling he might. The pricks were getting quite aggressive. They stung, and he was beginning to get anxious at the fact that he couldn't wipe the feeling from the back of his hands.

"It is the force of their tridents at this scale," Ambrose said gently. "Whatever you do, don't let the pinpricks touch the shells. Our skin is the barrier, and so long as we take the pain, the ships won't."

Wesley nodded, though he knew Ambrose's eyes were also closed. This was going to be a very long day.

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A/N

Which one of Snow White's seven dwarfs describes you best (Doc, Bashful, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Grumpy, or Dopey)?

Have a good Friday!
-Mora Montgomery