Her mind was in a whirl of confusion at what had all happened. Why had someone done that to her in the first place? Melanie hadn’t done anything recently to warrant an adversary, that she knew of anyways. Especially these last few days where she had been doing her best to help out the villages affected by all the battles. She could have stayed in her safe rooms, ignoring the outside world but she had decided against that and in return this is what she receives? All she knew for sure is that she was very tired of almost being killed. 

When he got them to the side, he was lifting her up just enough so that her head would stay above the water before he climbed out of the water himself. It would be easier to pull her out than it would be to lift her, and it gave him he leverage to help her onto land without as much trouble as he’d experienced just getting her from under the water. Though, she still felt like she weighed several hundred pounds with the dress and the weight the water added.

It was all really sudden. One minute she was admiring the view before her, the sun highlighting the trees covered in frost and the ice cap over the man made lake not that far from the castle. This village was Melanie’s favorite to visit, they had the loveliest gardens and nature was left on it own, invading the buildings and covering anything grey and made of stone. It had a magical effect on the town. The sight before her was a stunning vision of light and what seemed like crystals that left her breathless.

So captivated by the sight in front of her she never heard the footsteps behind her, but she did feel the push, the lack of control over her body as she fell forward. Screaming she managed to twist at the last second before her body broke through the ice and ice water surrounded her. Pain overwhelmed her senses she knew no more.

It was one of the guards that he spotted, and instantly he was changing direction and turning down another street. Rather than run and draw more attention to himself, he simply weaved through different streets until he was in a portion of the village that opened into a garden area. It was quiet here; and though it would have been nice to relax he couldn’t bring himself to do it yet. He wasn’t alone, after all. Moving slowly, he watched all the others that were around to see what their intents were. Where they were going. If he was noticed. 

      But it never came.

     He simply nodded at the thanks, nodding towards her side. “Let me see,” He spoke simply. Delmar was no doctor, but he had treated his fair number of cuts and gashes in his time; many of them on himself, a few on the crew. Despite her attempt to wave him off he was simply repeating the command and letting his gaze shift to her face with a more hardened edge than before. It wasn’t as if he wanted to avoid the crew or finding Dimitri. But he also had the undeniable urge, however annoying it may have been, to make sure that others were also okay. Especially ones that he knew. While he wasn’t sure he would go so far as to say he cared for her, as their interactions were limited, and would certainly not lay down his life for her, it was enough that he knew who she was and couldn’t just turn his back without a worry itching at the back of his mind. 

     “Rendón,” she greeted with a wince and tried for her signature, easily reckless grin though it fell short of its usual lightness, “it’ll make for a decent scar.” She let him guide her away from the open area, figuring if he helped her out of harm’s way, she could wait till the bleeding stopped and move on her own after that. Her try at lightness turned to concern as she realized what his presence next to her meant.

     “Why aren’t you with your crew? You shouldn’t be out here.”

     The mention of a scar caused a bit of a calloused laugh, a shake of his head as he ushered her out of the line of sight of the main streets. He didn’t wait to see if she was keeping time with his steps, more than content her drag her with him if it came to that. Scars were not something that Delmar wanted to collect, despite the fact that they littered his body like paint on a canvas. He supposed he nearly had more scarred flesh than that that was untouched, but he did not want more. They were a sign of your inferiority to someone else; a weakness. Each scar he wore now was a sign of the time he’d spent making himself better than whoever had given it. He wasn’t sure if it’d be the same for Alice.

“How about we head towards the nearest local gardens? Being this early in the morning will ensure that its not overly populated and its perfect for both conversation and inspiration. Its also sure to be near other small shops in case we find ourselves in need of food or drink.” And it also ensured that they wouldn’t be completely isolated, Melanie knew better than that. She hoped Mr Rendón wouldn’t turn out to be a despicable human being but should the need arise she could cry out for the guards and have help come instantly. She didn’t really see this encounter coming to that end however. So she pushed such thoughts aside. Instead trying to commit to memory the way that small smile he flashed at her earlier changed his whole face, made him more inviting in appearance and more handsome than she thought possible.  She would definitely do some sketches of him smiling.

Delmar nodded at her suggestion regardless. It wasn’t fear that filled him at the thought of being near her; there was nothing he would claim that held fear over him. But, rather, an unpleasantness perhaps at feeling as though one needed to be extra careful in their dealings. He didn’t consider himself a harsh man; at least, not always. He could show his force just as easily as compassion if the time called for it. But he was not a soft man to those he did not know, and this woman beside him was a stranger. One wrong word and he could easily send her away in tears, he assumed. 

He…oh God, he had killed him. Without so much as a single thought, this man had killed him.

Tatiana wasn’t even aware of the rest of the raiders leaving in a hurried rush in response to the murder of one of their own. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and she felt shaky, dizzy, and nauseous, as well. Only once before had she seen someone die in front of her, and that had been her poor mother, gaunt and pale as she allowed her sickness to consume her entirely as she said her goodbyes to the family she loved more than anything else in the entire world. Tatiana knew that the man standing before her now had only been attempting to help her, to shield her and her bakery from the gang of looters that would have done unthinkable things if left alone, but she still couldn’t tear her wide-eyed gaze away from the sight of the lanky man on the ground with his throat torn open and the last vestiges of life quickly leaving him. “He is–he is dead; oh–oh God, he is not…on ne ostanovitsya krovotecheniye; on umirayet, Bozhe...” Shakily, and without answering the stranger’s query, Tatiana was falling to her knees before the dying man, and her fretful little hands sought out the jagged gash that had been dragged across his throat, only to come away bloody and useless as she realized that there was no longer anything that she could do. She had wanted him to leave her bakery, of course, and she had been willing to beat him over the head to do it, but…oh God, she hadn’t wanted anyone to die today.

“We must be giving him proper burial,” Tatiana managed to say in a quivering rush, and with hands that trembled just as badly, she reached out to close the fallen man’s eyes, feeling her own well with tears all the while. She looked back up at the stranger that had single-handedly defended her and her bakery, and she wasn’t angry or accusing at all, but rather…sad. Sad, and determined as well. She didn’t know who this man was, or why he was carrying around a pair of sickles, but…he couldn’t be too bad, could he, if he had taken time away from whatever he was doing to rescue a girl he didn’t even know? “Please, I–I am wanting to take his body into the woods…no one should have to lay dead in street for everyone to see. You are already doing much for me, big man, but I am asking for just this one more thing and then I will be pretending as if I am not seeing you at all. Please…help me bring into woods.”

The man that crumpled to the ground at his feet was not so lucky. His grip remained tight on the sickles for a moment before he was looking to the girl finally. Naturally, she seemed quite shocked. He didn’t blame her. Had he been in her position, he supposed he would have been just surprised by the actions of a stranger.

The shock set in quickly in the young girl, and rather than answer his question she was gasping and spouting out worries about the man that had fallen between them. For a moment, the dilect shifted and he was sure she was speaking a language he wasn’t familiar with. Russian, perhaps? Though he wasn’t familiar enough with it to know what she said. The concern on her face was enough to give him the vague idea that it was the same thing she’d been gasping when she spoke in English. He frowned a bit, his gaze turning towards the streets for another minute. There was chaos all around them and this woman wanted to deal with the dead body of a man that would have killed her in a heartbeat. She’d dropped to her knees, and if that’s what she needed to get past her shock at what had happened then so be it. His fingers flexed over the handle of his sickles before he shifted them both to one hand. The wooden handles, carved in a way that they could fit together and form what was basically one blade, he looked to the blonde and gritted his teeth. They needed to get out of the street, or she would be seeing a lot more killing than she had likely expected. From the looks of it, she didn’t expect to see any. The blood was still sticky and bright on the blade of his weapon, slowing dripping from the curved tip to the cobblestone below. No doubt an image that didn’t help to calm the young girl.

It was as she was attending to an elder woman who had a large cut along the length of her forehead that the church caught fire. Those sheltered under its shadow that were still conscious began to scream as half a dozen pirates came out of the surrounding smoke, yelling and tossing flaming torches onto the roof and through the windows. Cora’s heart jumped into her throat, threatening to choke her as many of the helpers fled. Some stayed, trying to rally those on the ground or carry out the more seriously wounded. 

She wanted to run. Gods, she wanted to run far away from this and never return to land, but there were little children and mothers with babies struggling to get away from the circling pirates. The men laughed as they slashed at the human’s feet, purposefully missing but pushing the group farther back towards the burning walls as the injured shrieked for mercy.  

Rage welled in her chest like a spring, hot and volatile, and the water in the basins the mer had gathered began to tremble. Cora stepped towards the church and raised her hands, splaying her fingers towards the flames without consciously considering what she was starting. Every available water source within 100 feet rose into the air, shimmering and twisting violently, before crashing into the church with a deafening impact. The infant fire was no match and extinguished instantly, hissing and screaming as smoke erupted from the blackened wood. 

“Filthy fucking fish!” The pirates standing beside the church gaped in fury at the woman they’d overlooked, allowing time for the humans to flee, soaked and terrified but alive. 

Cora didn’t have more than a moment to take satisfaction in her actions. Something cracked against the back of her head hard enough to black out her vision and when she regained herself, she was on the ground. Six men stood around her; one wrapped his first in her hair before smacking her face into the cobblestone. Cora screamed as blood streamed from her nose, wet and thick, and pain and terror clouded her senses. 

“Looks like we caught a fish out of water, lads,” the man who had her hair spat, pulling her up. Two others seized her arms, holding Cora in place as she struggled. “Think she burns like a human?” 

The pirate leading the group leered and stepped forward, his fingers finding the silver chain around her neck. It held a translucent vial of salt water that she always wore on land to keep up her strength. With a snap, he broke it from her skin and smashed it on the ground. 

“No better time to find out.” 

The shrill scream that erupted from a woman pushed to the ground was where his eyes settled and almost instantly his grip on the handles of his sickles was tightening. 

Coraline.

He could walk away. He’d learned she was mer by accident, and it was clear now that she was the one who gave herself away through the saving of the church. It was her own fault, his logic told him. He could walk away with no responsibility. But, as the men pulled her to her feet, Delmar was pulling himself forward into the building. He didn’t run; there was no reason for that, and it wouldn’t accomplish what he wanted. Running meant fear, and he felt none of that. Instead, he moved deliberately. Picking his way around the wounded and those helping that still tried to flee from the building and the scene developing. His eyes looked not to her, but to the men around her. Looking to see if he could recognize their faces; he had no doubts that they were pirates, but he doubted any were from the crews of the pirate lords. He didn’t recognize any of them, and he made it a point to keep tabs on those that he met when near the others that led the pirate forces. 

“She’s mine,” He said before he’d gotten all the way in front of them, with a casual air of confidence that he thought left little room for argument. Apparently, they disagreed. One of them turned and scowled at him, laughing at his blatant claim of ownership. Clearly they didn’t know who he was. His head just tilted and he rose an eyebrow. “I don’t like to repeat myself. So unless you’d like me to gut you before I do the fish bitch, I suggest you give her to me. I’ve been looking for her for awhile now.” He shifted the sickle in his hand, intending to draw their focus to it. To the mostly dried, brown layer that covered it. The clear mark of lives that he’d taken not too long ago. He stepped forward, lowering his chin slightly. He didn’t puff himself up to show dominance; instead focusing on being prepared to fight them, should they not comply. His blade twisted again and he watched them.

Tatiana hadn’t been at all prepared for the incoming raid on the village, and with her father out of town on business and no one but her to protect their beloved bakery, she had taken it upon herself to snatch up the first weapon she could find—a heavy, cast-iron frying pan—before leaving the relative safety of her home to stand guard outside of the last true memory of her mama that her and her papa had to hold onto. Everything about their little bakery had been dedicated to her late mother—Sweetums was the affectionate little pet name that had been used when her parents thought that Tatiana was within hearing range, and each and every single one of the recipes had been taken from her handwritten notes. The young Russian girl would sooner give up her own life than abandon the bakery that she loved so dearly, and now, she was standing outside of it with her frying pan and her heart on her sleeve, surrounded by a half-circle of looters who seemed to want nothing more than to ransack everything of value from their little shop before burning it to the ground.

Brandishing her weapon of choice defensively, Tatiana let out a shaky breath as she glared heatedly at the numerous men who encroached upon her with their dirty hands, guns and swords strapped to their sides and broken bottles made out of jagged glass in their hands, wondering how on earth she was supposed to manage to take them on all at once. Wide-eyed and scared, she did her best not to let it show, stubbornly staring down each and every one of the men who so much as dared to take another step towards her and her bakery.

"I am meaning it—if you do not leave right this instant, I will beat you bloody until you are not breathing!”

It was as if war had taken to the streets with little regard for anything. There were no rules here; there was kill or be killed, in some situations. There was fear and evasion. Many people were running around. It was the perfect opportunity for many to break into shops and steal things or take women where ever they found them. With both sickles in hand in preparation to defend himself, Delmar picked his way through the city towards the places he expected to find his captain or other members of the crew. Dimitri, he knew, could care for himself. Some of the other crew were less gifted. Regardless, they were all his responsibility.

When he’d rounded a corner, he came face to face with a small crowd of men moving towards a young woman that was armed with nothing but a frying pan. She’d be lucky to make contact before one of them got a hold of her. With the number of them compared to one of her, she was hardly in luck. Gritting his teeth, he was prepared to walk away when an annoying sense of duty clawed at his chest and had him turning.

“I’m glad to hear that monsieur, I would hate to be responsible for delaying you in any important quests.” She was intrigued by this man but for the first time in a long time she began to feel awkward, playing with the small details on her bodice Melanie took a deep breath before blurting out what she was thinking. “Would you be opposed to joining me for a simple stroll among the port and its stands? Honestly, I have this desire to sketch you, and being in your company for a few moments could help be do so without asking you to pose for me.” Melanie was unsure of what the Mr. Rendón would think of her offer, and was in a way cringing in preparation of rejection. Where she had been keeping eye contact before the request, she now avoided his eyes. Had this been about anything else, a sexual offer, a night of fun or even to get tipsy in the bars, Melanie would be assured and confident. But this was about something much more vulnerable and delicate than that. Her art was a talent she was not sure of, a talent she had for no one but herself. Therefore in comparison to everything else, she simply was not the arrogant lady who knew she excelled in practically everything she put her mind too.

When the woman seemed to lose some of her confidence, dropping her gaze and occupying her hands with something other than just sitting at her side, he tilted his head. While he knew there were times he could come across as intimidating, he hardly thought he gave the woman cause to be nervous. When she finally spoke again and posed a question, his eyebrow rose. It was certainly not one that he had expected to hear, especially from a young woman that he had only just met. Drawing was something unfamiliar to him, if only because it was not a skill he was often around in his line of work. Drawing was the kind of art given to those that could afford the luxuries of extra paper and writing tools. Either this woman was one of the court or had money; perhaps from family? It wasn’t much of a concern to him. The art itself was fascinating, and the idea that she would choose him from the number of people that she had likely met was an interesting thought. His head tilted a bit as he regarded her and realized he was letting the silence hang a bit too long between them. “I will admit... I’ve never been asked that, before.” He smiled, only slightly, and finally nodded his head. “It couldn’t hurt.” He replied finally, with another nod of his head. It was curious to him, and while he watched her a moment longer he finally turned his attention back to the larger market around them.

A silence hung between them for a moment and he drew a slow breath. He wasn’t sure exactly what the woman was seeking from him, or if he had the means to offer it, but standing there staring back at he without speaking seemed to border on inappropriate. Surely she had better things to do than be trapped into a conversation with him. But then, she had been the one to approach him, and he knew full well that basing assumptions on what you see could easily lead you astray. Letting his gaze wander, he looked to the others in the small market. Many had likely been up for hours, based on the way they looked to be the working class. Preparing farm land or animals or food for the others in town. There just started to be a growing number of people in finer wear; out for shopping or a morning meal before going about their day and whatever pointless things filled their hours.

She paused when Alexander made it glaringly obvious that she was a mermaid but Delmar showed no reaction to the news. It could be put aside for now in the face of a much larger problem.

“Merely happy to see a friendly face, land-dweller. You do know that I don’t have the face of a fish, right? It’s the other way around; I have the tail, though not right now. Your insult’s a bit misguided.” 

“It’s an expression…like with every disgusting member of your species, being a fish runs through your veins,” Alexander spat, his voice low, cold, and crisp as he addressed both the mermaid and her apparent pirate accomplice. Did Dimitri know about this too, then?

“Tail, head, torso, it’s all the same to me,” he said with a wave of his hand, crinkling his nose in repulsion. “You’re all scales and gills to me. Disposable, even.”

She scoffed at his idea, however. “Being a Pirate Lord is a glorified title. I could still kick their asses without it. I’m half-tempted to do that now, really.” The boys really could use a good smackdown. Some more than others.

“You could. But you have got the title,” He smirked a bit, tilting his head. “Would a queen reject her title simply because there were other, horrible queens. Put the other queens to shame, my dear,” Delmar said, shrugging. She didn’t need the title to be what she was, that was clear neough based on her history. But neither did she need to negate her title because a certain pirate lord had no concept of planning or intelligence.