PyrePostings

"I am hosting a dinner tonight, and it is high time I show off my latest acquisition, hm?"

Kevin narrowed his expression from questioning to defiant. He was not her pet, as he had so thoroughly tried to explain already. Such explanations seemed to only earn him a gag as standard procedure.

She took a step forward, close enough now to grab him by the chin, and she did. Kevin flinched away, enough to show he wouldn't just give in to her touch, but not enough to fully escape as her grip strengthened and truly earn her ire. She tilted his head up, and he met her gaze waveringly. He bared his teeth for good measure. In a fair fight between them she would be as dead as if she went up against a lion, and she knew it, it's why she had armed guards on her payroll.

"I thought that might not be taken well. But you would do well to listen now. You are to sit pretty tonight and do as you are told. I have important guests coming, and many wish to see you. Not many get the chance to see a beast such as yourself up close."

He outright huffed at that. I am not a beast. And you know that. It's why you don't let me speak.

She took her hand away, and said to the guards, "Bring it to the tank and do it now, so it can adjust before the guests arrive."

Adjust? To what? He didn't like that. Was it to be cramped? It didn't seem so as he was turned towards it. Well, it wasn't the wide ocean for sure, but it looked big enough to physically stretch out lengthwise in it, if not really swim around. Mostly it looked- exposed.

It was certainly decorated to not look like a bare glass box in an otherwise perfected courtyard, but the stone columns were only on the corners, the leaves and flowers only covered the bottom to where the raised tank actually started, and crept along the top edge of the glass, not actually providing any shade or coverage. Even the steps to the top, which were likewise covered in vegetation, only really blocked one short side. And even that mercy was negated by the stone steps that descended into the tank as well.

A handler stepped into the tank and sloshed to the far side. The gravel was less pleasant to kneel on than the grass, and the water only came up to his waist like this. Surely it would look better filled? It would certainly feel better if he could be fully submerged. Besides, they likely wanted to force him into his mer form to show him off, right? The easiest way to do that is fill the tank to the lid with water.

His cuffs were changed out first. The new ones were wider, and padded with leather inside and out. Decorative, he realized. It covered signs of his pulling against the spindly ones with an otherwise lovely dark green, and a shiny silver chain. He tongued at the cloth in his mouth. If pretty restraints were in order, this would have to go. The image of a metal horse bit crossed his mind, and hoped it would at least also be coated in a soft green leather.

Something felt wrong. The handlers were too tense, too nodding at each other to be normal. Kevin braced, he didn't know what for. It was too early to force him to change, which was always the biggest struggle. They couldn't still be this scared of his teeth? A hand knotted tighter into his hair as the gag fell away.

When the blow to his chest came, it was so swift he barely registered that it was the guard in front of him that delivered it before he was planted face first into the water. He doubled over, twisting to his side as he instinctively gasped for breath. Water filled his lungs, burning, suffocating. Without another thought he willed that electricity through him that with a flash of heat and steam gave him his tail and finger webbings and gills, his gills he needed right now to breathe.

But they didn't let him up like they normally did, didn't let him steady himself and recover. He felt a pain dig into his back and hands on his gills-

He bucked and he squirmed, gasping in that shallow puddle. They wouldn't kill him here? He was more useful to them alive, surely he was more useful to them alive?

By the time he felt faint he managed to get on his back. His eyes were clouding, he felt himself float despite the gravel digging into his back, pinned down by his throat and hair and tail-

He faintly registered a hand on his jaw, too. A thick glove prising his mouth open, sliding something inside. He bucked again on instinct, biting down, but it was no use. The thing filled his mouth, filled his throat, and as soon as it was in, the hands on his gills released.

The first rush of water over his now freed gills had him floating for a new reason. His chest still burned, convulsing in an effort to cough the water out, but the stars dancing across his vision faded as he grasped consciousness again.

The rest of the hands loosened or left, and he tried to sit up reflexively. He needed to get that thing off his face, had to take it out. There were gags before but this was vile, this one hurt the worst of all.

Before he could register the mistake that is was lifting his head out of the water, a guard pushed him back under. "Hey, no, no. Back down. Calm down."

He flinched from and struggled against the next thing they put to his face, which only gave them cause to muscle him back onto his stomach again as they tightened the straps behind his head. His hands were next, pulled up behind his back just enough to be uncomfortable, and felt it with a tug connected to the mask now secured on his face.

No, not a mask, he realized. A muzzle.

They backed off then. He heard the order to fill the tank, and water started rushing in, clouding as it hit the dirt and gravel at the bottom. He shivered at the cold, and the squeaking of the nearby pump operated by a few of the guards.

He realized then he couldn't even scream in frustration, as all his vocalizations required air and free vocal chords.

He thrashed his tail, hard enough to hit both sides of the glass in one big motion. They had put a lid on the tank when they were done filling it, so he couldn't even splash the onlookers, the Mistress who watched him down her nose with her arms crossed. He wanted to snarl and bare his teeth, but all he could do is narrow his eyes into a glare and hit the side of the tank closest to her again as he writhed, pulling at his bonds as if he could just wriggle out of them.

She didn't seem to like that, as a burn started radiating from a new spot. Or rather an old one. He twisted back to look at her, and saw she had his compass in her hand, finger on the dial that controlled the pain in the connected brand between his shoulder blades.

He wanted so desperately to scream as the pain arched through him. His gills fluttered furiously, trying to claw enough oxygen that he would calm down, that he could manage it. Breathe. Just breath. See, she's already turned the compass off again. You'll survive this.

He settled into a position that might have looked like prayer, the way he folded his tail under himself on the gravely floor, doubled over to press his forehead to the stone steps, closing his eyes to block out the world.

Breathe. You're under water, your gills are free. Ignore your lungs ignore your lungs, it hurts but you're not injured. Breathe.

He tried to convince himself to stop trying to draw in a breath to cough out the water. To focus on his functioning gills. Trying to not think about how every second of this was increasing the chance of permanent damage to his lungs.

Ignore the tapping on the glass, the way it pounds into his skull. He only turned to look when that searing pain started prickling in warning. It was the mistress, pointing to indicate she wanted him to move. To look pretty for the guests, he remembered.

He narrowed his eyes and turned away. He would move, if that's what she wanted. He tested how sharp the edges of the steps were, if he could dislodge the muzzle enough to cough up the water. He didn't know what his plan was for after that, as there wasn't enough air close enough to breathe in.

When he was not immediately successful and hit with a spike of pain and more tapping on the glass for his efforts, he gave up for the moment. There will be opportunity later when the mistress had shifted her attention elsewhere. For now, he tapped his own tail forcefully against the smooth glass again as he turned, settling in the spot she wanted, and his brand cooled.

She seemed as pleased as she could for such a cold woman, and after saying something to the guards he couldn't make out through the glass, she turned and walked away. He glared as she left, before pushing off again, back to the stairs.

~

He got some relative peace for a short time. His chest throat still ached but he managed to push it down. Trying too hard to dislodge the muzzle still got warning knocks on the glass from the guards, but he was mostly left alone, save the staring of passing servants trying not to look like they were being distracted from their own work. Kevin was better at pretending not to be paying them any mind, and making them jump with a well timed slap when they got too close. Kevin wouldn't actually hurt them, he knew they had no part in deciding anything that happened to him. But they could still mind their own business.

He got the chance to look at himself in the hazy reflection made by the foliage in one of the corners, and he noted the bitter irony in the muzzle indeed being made out of matching green leather to his shiny new cuffs. He wished it was a plain metal horse bit instead, he'd take the grinding on his teeth to this any day.

~

There wasn't all that much to do in the small tank. He settled on one end, sitting in a way that pinned his bound arms against the glass, so he could hold them up and lessen the way the muzzle dug into his face without tiring out. Watching the activities of the garden, he saw when the mistress returned.

He narrowed his eyes when she ordered the lid removed. Why would she do that? He shrunk away from the handler that stepped into the top step. He gestured and verbally commanded him to come, but Kevin decided to ignore the order. There's no way she changed her mind and was having the gag taken out. And the only reason they would be doing this would be to take him out of the tank. No thank you.

When he ignored the order a second time, he saw her open the lid of the compass and nudge the dial. He so wished once again he could at least bare his teeth and snarl, to show how much he would enjoy ripping her throat out if he could get the chance.

The brand quickly flared, and when it was set back to a simmer, the guard stepped further in and grabbed him, pulling him out.

He convulsed again as air hit his gills, which he sealed on instinct, to protect the delicate moist membranes out of water. But once again, he couldn't breathe.

He was laid on the grass, several guards pinning him down. They were shouting orders at him, "calm down" and "hold still" and the like. Easy for them to say. If they were going to drown him on land then he could at least fight them every step of the way.

But then heaven was pressed to his gills. A cool cloth, soaked in water was squeezed out against his throat. He felt the fingers probe into the slit to open it, and he complied. For a moment he didn't care how pliable this made him, how they tilted his head back to gain better access. He needed them to do it again.

And they did, to his other gill in turn. Cool water, being cupped slightly to hold it in place a moment longer, he needed it. He needed every gasping breath.

"There you go," he heard the guard with the water murmur. Quinn, he tried to recall his name. One of the more lenient guards. "See, you're ok."

Kevin was completely muted from the gag, so his only response or way to ask for more was to lean in again, and this was rewarded with another round of that cool water.

Then the soaked cloth was left over his gills, which was better than nothing but he needed More. He needed to be back in the tank. He knew a mer's gills had better structure than the average fish's, but he couldn't do this forever. He strained to get every mote of oxygen out of the air, squirming and thrashing when the calling from every cell in his body for air built up to its chorus again.

A new cuff had been attached to the tip of his tail while he was still, and clipped to a chain already moored into the ground. No, no, he needed to be back in the tank, not chained up out here.

After another strained breath, he was hauled up and placed on one of the flat rocks by the tank, Quinn holding him upright by the chain connecting his hands to the muzzle, while the others shortened the one on his tail. Quinn pushed his head back until it met his chest, holding him more securely in place. He had a bucket and a cloth, and pacified him again.

Kevin worried about how long this was going to go on for, what the point was. This seemed like more work for everyone involved and for what?

He heard the order to the guards that if they had to put him in the tank without her orders they would have to train his endurance in these conditions before the next showing, and he did not like the sound of that. He was not going to let himself be punished for needing to breathe, fuck you.

Guests started to trickle in, and a band started up in another corner of the courtyard. Fancy rich assholes in their flowy summer attire all seemed to make their way over to him. To gawk, to touch him, running their hands along his scale and fins, feeling the way the skin on his face above the muzzle turned to scales by his ear fins. Quinn didn't let them touch his gills, thankfully, though he would lapse in refreshing the water for any guest who was asking too many questions and distracting him.

Kevin tried to ignore the endless parade. He leaned against the handler in such a way that sealed one gill flap while allowing him to still open the other. This concentration of breath seemed to help, it was something to focus on, a way to keep both from drying out.

At one point between guests, Quinn asked if he would voluntarily show off the eye-spot fins on his tail, and Kevin fixed him with a glare so intense he actually apologized.

"Sorry. I only meant that it might result it less touching."

Kevin knew how pretty humans found his eye-spots, that's why he kept them as hidden as possible here. They were supposed to scare off or distract predators, not be ogled as fine features. And if the guard knew he didn't want random prissy hands on him and actually cared, he could do something about it.

But still, Quinn was right. They knew features like his eye-spots were there but hidden, and they would get their look anyway, no matter how much he strained against the chain to evade their touch. That however didn't change his determination to comply as little as possible to anything they want. He would not be a willing participant in his own subjugation.

~

The sun crept closer to the horizon, and guests started to take their seats for dinner.

"Listen," Quinn said, leaning down to speak softly. "She wants you in the tank while they eat, but only if we think you won't make a fuss getting you back out later on tonight."

Well he's certainly going to make a fuss if he can at all help it.

"No, listen to me. You can spend the next few hours in the tank, or you can spend them out here. If you are trouble to take out in front of all these guests, she will put you in that gag again as punishment and call it training."

This negotiation felt one-sided. What's stopping her from using this gag again anyway? No, he's going to make a fuss here. He had gotten good at controlling his reaction to it over the course of the afternoon, but pain still filled his chest, radiating from his too full lungs. He wasn't really immediately incentivized to follow commands to keep him like this. Even the water he was supplied was off rhythm and not enough. He had to get into the tank. He would behave in the tank, but he's not going to let them just take him out.

"Hey," he said, rubbing his chin with his thumb, making him look up at him again. "Are you going to be good?"

Kevin nodded, hoping he was convincing. He needed that time in the tank. He would deal with whatever else after.

The guard studied his face. Kevin looked pointedly at the tank.

"Ok. Just remember what you're promising."

Quinn signaled to the others and his chains were detached from the ground and he was carried up the stairs to the tank where he was dropped in.

He spun into the tank, trying to maximize water flow in the short space. What he wouldn't give for the full ocean right now- but this was leagues better than damp towels pressed over his neck. The staring quickly caught up to him, however, and he slimmed down fins where he could, finding his previous spot to sit in.

He watched the onlookers back as dinner went on. He wondered when he would get to eat next. He only got two meals a day, and he was currently skipping his evening one as these pompous assholes dined on rich delicacies, after snacking on finger sandwiches all afternoon. One of them had at least asked if they could feed him, as a novelty to them more than actual concern for him he assumed, but whether he would have actually played nice about it and accepted or not, it would have been nice to have the option instead of having his throat completely blocked.

As guests finished their dessert one by one, many came over to the tank to look at him up close. Many were children in their tiny little sundresses and suits, none nearly as crisp or ornate as their parents. Many tapped on the glass, a deafening reverberating sound he couldn't get his hands up to his ears to block, only press his ear fins close to his head, but those were poor at fully blocking anything out.

Quinn was there, and tapped once, and gave a gesture and a look that said, 'can you just be pretty for them? Just give them something to stare at, display yourself bare for all these people who don't actually care about you. Glitter for them like a trophy behind a glass pane.'

He recalled how they wanted to take him out again. He weighed his options, whether if he was good and showy enough in the tank, maybe they wouldn't take him out tonight at all? It was worth a try, he decided. If only to put off being touched directly. He glared at Quinn as he pushed off, flaring his fins as he slowly paced the tank.

He shifted his attention more softly to the children. He took note of those who were squealing incomprehensible commands from behind the glass and still tapping away, and which were simply watching. He pressed his tail gently to the glass where one silent observer stood. Her eyes grew wide, and she touched the glass, drinking in the sight of him.

He decided that if he was going to be on display anyway, that this was ok. He pressed his forehead to the glass and pulled back the cloudy secondary eyelids that protected his eyes underwater. The water wasn't salty, so it didn't sting to have them exposed like this. But still, he only did it for a moment, enough to make her squeal, and someone else took her place. He pulled away.

He chose another child, and again showed them that he would be behave to those that treated him well. When this one seemed interested in his gills, he flared them more strongly. He looked to Quinn. He seemed to approve.

He continued on, showing himself to the children who didn't cause him pain. He largely ignored the adults. The children at least looked at him with unabashed wonder, while the adults clearly all saw a dangerous beast that was below them.

All too soon, the guard tapped once, and gestured to the steps. Kevin considered his options.

He could refuse. He could shrink away and show obvious fear in front of all these sheltered guests who had just been fawning over him. He could make the guards come down into the tank and haul him up. He could make the mistress get his compass out again. Would the kids cry if he showed pain?

But what would that get him? Not much reprieve, not now. Likely not later either. He didn't really doubt the mistress would take it out on him after all the guests had gone.

But if he went up now, he would be exposing himself to the air for the rest of the night. This barrier would be gone. Was this not enough for them?

Quinn tapped again, and other guard stepped into the tank, the top step bringing the water barely up to his ankle. Just do it, just do it. Abandon your pride and it'll be easier.

He nodded, to show he heard, and took the biggest gulp of water as he could, before pushing himself up to meet the guard's hands.

This one was rougher than Quinn, hauling him up by the muzzle chain and armpits, as if he was struggling. As if it didn't hurt enough to give himself up like this.

They man handled him back down to the sitting rock, and Quinn took his place once again behind him, wet rag in hand. And onward marched the parade.

~

Kevin didn't know how late it was when the yard started thinning of guests, only that it felt like an eternity, and there were now more lanterns standing about than people. The mistress came over eventually, petting his head and then hooking the chin of the muzzle to make him look at her when he flinched away. She regarded him coldly before giving orders to Quinn to retire him for the night.

"It's over," Quinn murmured into his ear. The other guards started unlocking his tail, and he was laid on the grass. "Relax, ok? I'm going to unchain you now, so behave ok?"

Kevin nodded, and pointedly looked at the rag again. Quinn obliged, and then set the bucket in front of Kevin, and he realized why as his wrists were uncuffed. Quinn gave him the rag.

Kevin stared for a moment before breathlessness overtook him and he propped himself over the bucket and squeezed every mote of oxygen out of it.

"Do you want the gag out now?"

Kevin nodded furiously.

"Alright, hold still."

Kevin held his breath as the bucket was nudged away, and he felt the key hit the lock on the muzzle as if it was scraping his skull. He reached up once the muzzle was away to take out the gag, but Quinn pressed his hands back to the ground and reminded him to be still.

With the muzzle gone, the gag was looser in his throat. It tickled and spasmed his throat, his instinct to cough it out once again returning full force. Quinn angled his head by his hair, and pulled the gag out.

Kevin hacked and spluttered an oceans worth of water onto the lawn, it felt like it would never end. How could it feel so much worse coming up than it had all night? It felt like his lungs didn't know how to contract anymore. He would expel what he thought was everything, hold still for a moment to accept Quinn tending to his gills once again, before trying to intake a breath and starting it all up anew.

He heard the order from Quinn to the other guards to find him something to eat in the leftovers of the party. And tea, he said. Yeah tea would be nice, if he could swallow anything at all right now.

When it finally felt like nothing substantial was coming up, despite what the pain in his throat and chest might imply, he was propped up to sit unteathered against the stone he had been chained to all evening. He was given the rag and bucket again, and he tried to take even breaths of both water and air.

A wind swept by him and he realized how cold he was. It had been a pleasant day, not overly hot, and now that the sun was firmly gone he noted how cold the water really was, the lack of clothes. Animals don't need clothes, the mistress had said. She allowed him simple pants in his human form, though that seemed to be more for the comfort and modesty of the humans around him. At least back in his cell he would get his blanket.

Quinn settled beside him. "Can you drink? It's warm, and it has honey in it. Might help your throat?"

My throat, that you helped fuck up. Still, it was warm to hold, and he managed a few sips between hacking coughs. Quinn also had him try some kind of dessert, it wasn't warm but it was smooth and didn't need chewing from his aching jaw. And the sweetness did coat his throat in a way that did seem to help some. It was enough to help get another few sips of tea down.

"Do you want to sleep in the tank tonight?" Quinn asked when the tea had cooled and the bucket of water almost completely passed through his gills.

Kevin regarded him. It seemed to be a genuine offer. Though, who's to say if it was for Kevin's comfort rather than saving a guard from actually having something helpful to do to make up for this. But if that was the case, they could just leave him in a cell with the bucket. He felt like he could breathe now, just painfully. And if they hadn't before, they had all just shown they don't actually give a single damn about his comfort, only his compliance and survival.

But still, the tank would be better. Kevin nodded.

So they lifted him once more, this time more gently if only because he was able to actually hold himself up in their grip, though the jostling did spur another coughing fit.

When they reached the top of the steps, Quinn set him down again. "Give me a wrist," he ordered. His cuffs hadn't actually been taken off, only unlinked, and now there was another guard following close behind with a chain which ended already looped in the ground. Kevin folded his arms in and shrunk away as much as he could.

"No, no, don't do this. One wrist, on a long chain. We're not leaving you for the night without some kind of tether."

Fucking make me. He squirmed, making a break for the water. But with the lack of restraints and chains on him, Quinn found his easiest grip to be on his hair, and then an arm around his bruised throat. Kevin gasped and clawed at Quinn's arms. Let me go, let me go, let me go-

He was pinned to the stone steps, his hands wrenched behind him once again, guard knees digging his tail into the rough edges, which tore a ragged sound out of his throat.

"Alright, get in the tank."

The guards backed off, and he obliged, slipping back into the cool water, maneuvering with tail and shoulders, with his hands once again chained behind him. At least he wasn't muzzled this time.

He watched through the glass as another guard offered Quinn a handkerchief for where Kevin had left bloody ribbons along his forearms. He locked eyes with another guard standing watch, and slipped his bound hands down past his tail so that he could bring them to the front. Fuck you, he wanted to say.

He had been introduced to Captain Irwin Swail, of the Flying Fortune, and his tobacco laden breath during the transfer, but being shoved to the ground before him now made his stomach turn. He bared his teeth around the rag in his mouth as cruel hands pulled his head back by his hair, making him squint into the sun spilling around the edges of the pirate captain.

"Now, now, little one, there's no need for that. In fact, this poor attitude of yours makes me think that This is all the more necessary." The pirate pulled back on the gag, making it dig into the corner of his mouth painfully.

Kevin squirmed, trying to dislodge himself from his captor's grip, but all he got was pain in his scalp as his hair pulled, and then the pain of being dropped to the deck and kicked hard in the stomach.

"Tie it up," he heard the captain order over his own wheezing. He was pulled from his curled position and spread out, hands untied enough so they could be retied around a mast of the ship, and his feet the same. He struggled again, but it earned a crushing weight on the back of his neck this time, pinning his face into the wood of the mast.

The captain leaned against the mast himself, leisurely, in Kevin's line of sight where his face was pressed, and pulled something out of his pocket.

"You know what this is, boy?"

What a stupid question. Like he could answer. Some kind of locket, likely a compass given the engraving of a compass on it. A fancy one, all gold chain, likely stolen.

"Seems not, you'd be more afraid if you did."

Kevin bared his teeth around the gag and hissed. He wasn't afraid of some dainty bauble. Do your fucking worst asshole.

The pirate almost seemed amused. "Well, you'll learn soon enough." To his men he said, "Get me that fire, and the collar. I don't want it flopping around and messing with the clean mark."

Collar? Nooo thank you. He tried in vain to elbow the pirate holding him still, getting a leg free, anything, but all it got him was jeers and taunts.

A thick metal collar was clamped around his throat with a deafening, scraping click, and a chain pulled taught, nailed above his head. he had to strain to stand as straight and tall as he could to lessen the digging into his throat.

He heard the thunk of something heavy and metal set behind him, out of his squirming field of view. Then he heard the crackling of a fire. Ohh ho no thank you. He renewed his efforts of at least pulling a hand free and figuring it out from there.

The pirates then cut off his shirt, not being in the slightest careful of slicing him along with it. He let out a yelp at the pain and sudden exposure. This did not discourage any of them.

He felt a weight press behind him again, and the cold flat of a knife against his belly.

"Shhh, little fish. Stop squirmin' or I'll cut you open like one. I wonder how different you are on the inside, really."

Kevin tried to still, which was difficult with the shiver running up his spine.

"Hm, cold, little lad? Don't you worry none."

No no no, not like that. Not with fire, not with touch, just let him down, please let this be over soon.

The pirate stepped back, and the captain took his place. Except instead of holding a knife to his guts, he was touching him, touching the bare skin of his back, which prickled under the touch.

"Technically, it doesn't seem to matter where it's placed, but traditionally it's placed somewhere over the spine. Some superstition about north and the creature's center, I've heard. But there's nothing wrong with that." He was going to brand him. He was going to brand him and he could barely move an inch to stop him.

Then, shifting behind him. "You're going to be thankful for that gag in a moment," the captain said into his ear. And a branding iron was pressed into his back.

Kevin screamed as the blinding pain seared into the flesh between his shoulder blades, his entire body straining against the blazing touch. Spots danced in his vision against the afternoon sky, and he didn't realize the iron was pulled away, or that he was choking himself on the collar until it was given slack.

The captain patted his cheek. "Attaboy lad, it looks great already."

Fuck you. I hate you. Why- This doesn't make me yours.

"Bring it below, we'll get it stowed away properly."

His hands and feet were untied from the mast, and hands retied in a criss cross position around him, like a mockery of a hug and gave him no room to use his hands. It stretches out the skin where the brand is, he realized too.

He still tried to fight them, as he was brought below, but knew it wouldn't be successful. They brought him through cramped corridors until they reached a small room cut in half with iron bars. A brig. There was no mattress, no blanket, no hammock. Nothing to suggest any kind of comfort whatsoever as he was shoved into that tiny space. The floor would have to do, and at least its the wooden floor of a ship and not the cold stone floor of a land side prison cell.

They pressed him to the bars then, the pirate on the other side holding him in place by the collar, the chain still attached. The leash they had him on. His legs were spread with a kick, and shackled despite his bucking and kicking. No, he wasn't going to just let them have him like this.

His face was once again briefly pressed to the bars, redundantly and cruelly given the collar never really left where it was held in place, and suddenly the hand in his hair left and the world spun around.

He yelped as he swung, feet up in the air, suddenly attached to the ceiling.

"There you go. Would be a waste of time to let you roll around on the dirty floor and catch infection." Kevin snarled at the remark. "And you might learn some manners too. Hit him."

His arms were crossed but they still found a way to land a hit to his lower guts. He wheezed at the strike, curling in on himself. Fuck you. You could have bandaged me. Or not branded me in the first place.

"Let it swing like that for a bit. No, anchor it in place to the floor with a little slack first. If it passes out, put it standing up, but keep the wound clean, keep its legs spread. It'll be awhile to break this one, I want to conserve the potion some."

Okay. That's ok, the bar is just to keep him from transforming. The captain left, and the pirates given orders weren't gentle in fastening him down. He was curled forward slightly, just enough to strain with the way they connected his bound hands to the bar, then connected the collar to the floor, straining him back.

He did indeed have a little slack in the chain, enough to not immediately snap his neck as the ship rolled in the waves, but not enough to curl up, to defend his stomach or snap at anyone.

"How long do you think it'll take for it to pass out?"

"My copper's on a few hours. He's still human enough."

"Nah, it's a fighter, young. It can go at least a day."

"It looks human, but it's not. It probably won't pass out at all. It's magic and everything right."

Oh my god would the lot of you shut it. Kevin rolled his eyes and tried to relax into a more comfortable position, which was difficult. His ankles were already starting to feel the strain, and pulling on the rope attaching his wrists to the spreader bar to relieve that pressure was also taxing. His back still throbbed, and spiked when he strained his arms, but it felt better than he expected a burn like that to hurt. Surely this position wasn't meant to actually help?

He was jostled back into an awareness of his blithering captors. He glared at the interruption, and they seemed to enjoy their little bet.

This was going to be a long voyage, to wherever it was they were headed.

~

The captain returned after some time. He examined the brand, remarking how it was already healing along nicely.

"Now, I bet you're hungry, lad." The captain grabbed him by the hair to force him to look up at him. "But that gag is on ya' for a reason. I'll feed you, but you have to behave, understand? You bite me, and it'll be a week without food for you."

Kevin nodded. He wouldn't bite until he had a plan, anyway. Until he had a way out. Tied up like this, what would biting do? Get his teeth pulled out probably.

The gag was untied, and it made him realize how far apart his jaw was really wedged. He found it difficult to drink efficiently from the water canteen brought to his lips, gulping down (up?) what he could despite the amount escaping to run rivulets across his face and into his hair and to the deck. It was salt water, likely pulled straight from the ocean which was fine, his body could handle salt water. And it meant the pirates weren't mad with the waste of it. The opposite, if anything. They seemed far too amused by the mess he was making.

He pulled the water away. Kevin hung there, coughing slightly given the awkward position and sudden intake of water.

"Got anything to say, little fish?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd have to Ask you for the good stuff."

"And you might show some gratitude then."

"Right. Anyway you said something about food?"

Like he was going to be Grateful for any basic decency like food or water while he was a prisoner. If they wanted thanks they could let him go. Instead, they decided to put a knee very forcefully to his cheek, hitting him hard enough for the collar to dig into the side of his neck as he reached the limits of the chain before letting him swing back to position.

"Fuck you-"

Another punch to his gut to silence him.

"Well, boys, looks like it's not hungry today. Gag it back up, we'll try again tomorrow."

Kevin resisted the gag, but thick leather gloves pried his teeth apart to insert the cloth there, before wrapping another one around the outside of his mouth and leaving him up to dry.

~

He wasn't allowed to sleep a wink all night, the pirates' bet saw to that. If he could speak, he would have told them they were idiots, that merfolk tend to live at the bottom of the ocean where the pressure is greater than being turned on your head in the air, so he's not going to pass out, they're just depriving him of regular sleep. It wouldn't matter, probably. not when there was money on the line and they didn't give a shit about his comfort. But he would have liked to be able to say it to their faces.

If the bells over head (below foot?) rung once an hour and his sense of time not too scrambled from lack of skylight or sleep, It was midday when the captain strode back in. He had the handkerchief on his mouth moved to cover his eyes before removing the one from inside his mouth. Kevin didn't know what the point of that was. It probably didn't mean they were moving him since they didn't blindfold him before. And he was already bound so tight, what would he do with his vision but glare angrily anyway.

Once again the salt water canteen was brought to his lips, and he drank until it was pulled away. A hand curled into his hair, steadying him.

"Open up, boy."

He had already not been fed for at least a day before the pirates got him, and it's been over a day here. He opened his mouth, and hoped it was for food.

Instead, a shiver passed down (up?) his spine as the unmistakable sharp tang of a knife blade was rested flat against his tongue.

"You feel that, little fish, hmm? I want to sell you whole, worth more that way. But chances are, your buyer doesn't Need you for your tongue." A snicker from the peanuts gallery did not help to calm him down. "Behave, and I won't have to cut it out. Are you gonna behave for me?"

Kevin nodded, a slight movement was all it needed with the grip on his head, and the blade withdrew. He was then given a bite of salted beef by the tip of presumably same knife. What, pirates don't believe in forks? His stomach growled as the meat was pressed to his lips.

He took it, delicately, wary of the blades edge he couldn't see. The hand left its steadying grip on his hair at some point, leaving him to the hazard of being rocked by the boat and unable to steady himself at all. Each bite of the preserved meat felt like it was taking hours to chew, his position wasn't helping this either. But all too soon, the captain decided he was done.

"Wait!" He said as he felt the room shift, felt the captain getting ready to gag him again. "Let me down. Please. Let me sleep."

"Now, why would i do that?"

"Because I'm tired! I still need sleep, I thought you wanted me to heal, I can't do that on no sleep and barely any food."

The captain's boots thunked as he walked around him. "Have you ever been burned before, boy? I see no other brandings, but surely you know what it feels like?"

"Uh, yeah?" what kid hasn't touched a hot stove not knowing yet why you're not supposed to do that?

"Then tell me, does this feel like that?" The captain pressed the brand on his back, softly at first, the touch making his skin crawl, then harder, until he gasped in pain. "Hmm? Do you always recover so quickly that not two days later the pain has subsided so quickly?"

"I- no, I guess not."

"Good. If you're so eager, I'll let you down tomorrow." The captain pulled the gag between his teeth, and the blindfold back over his mouth. "You're going to thank me for giving you one more day of reprieve."

He patted Kevin's cheek condescendingly, as if he was actually doing him a favor, and left him to mull over what he might have meant.

~

As reprieves go, he's had better. Every hour that passed only made him more and more tired, and made it that much more difficult to hold himself up and relieve the pressure of the manacles on his ankles. They could have at least used rope, it would have some give to it. And with nothing to fill his time but the boring chatter of his captors, he found himself poked and kicked awake more and more.

He was glad to find the captain finally returned, for there was a chance he would keep his word and let him down.

He removed the gag first. "You know, little fish, this brand is barely a few days old and yet it looks to be completely healed. I'd say its time to test it out."

He heard the captain take a step back, and immediately this back erupted in fire. The shock knocked the wind out of him at first, the pain locking every muscle in his body before he finally freed his lungs to scream.

And he did scream until the searing pain finally subsided, leaving a warm afterglow in the brand's place. He flinched hard when the captain touched him again, he tried so hard to steady his breathing before the next one came. Instead, the captain ordered with a sick laugh to let him down.

"Now behave, boy, or I'll do it again. Now what do you say?"

Kevin hit the deck with a thud, arms still bound so he couldn't control his fall, legs still manacled to the bar. "Fuck you."

Another burst of pain, this one not as intense. "I meant for letting you down, not for this."

He could see what the captain held, it was the compass he used to brand him. He tried very hard not to shrink away in fear. He tried to stand instead, a more dignified position. The bar still forced him into a wide stance, and with his hands bound it was hard to really grab anything to steady himself, but it helped some to simply touch the wall.

"I thought you wanted to sleep. Its gonna be hard to do that standing." A devilish grin. "I could help with that."

He did want to sleep, but the danger in the air was electric. He wasn't going to take whatever the captain had planned lying down. But there was also no response that wasn't a bad idea. Might as well make them make him lie down.

He wouldn't submit, not yet. He would let them think this was all he could do, snarl and yell, and when their guard is down and the chains loose, that's when he'll strike. He did it before, he'll do it again.

So he snarled. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

"Of course, little one." The captain fiddled with the compass and his brand prickled, in warning likely. "Have you ever actually seen one of these? Hm, looks like not. Well, little fish, this is going to be a much more effective leash than the chain around your neck." The pain grew by a notch, as the captain touched the compass. Kevin narrowed his eyes.

"You are going to come to me." More pain, still bearable. "You are going to kneel at my feet, do as I tell you, and the pain will go away."

"As if I would ever do as you say."

The captain hummed, unconcerned as the pain jumped. Kevin tried not to let it show on his face. This wasn't a battle he was going to win, but he could hold out a little bit more. And the pain jumped higher and higher. Kevin had held a hand over a candle, once. Felt how the gentle warmth turned to a stabbing shock of pain he withdrew from quickly. This felt a lot like that. And he had a limit here too.

A wave rolled the boat, and he fell to his knees. "Okay! okay I will!" The pain lessened but did not completely subside.

"Then come. Right here." the captain snapped and pointed to the space in front of him, like Kevin was a dog to command. The captain was impatient now.

Kevin tried to stand and walk, but he fell again quickly as he tried to cross the room without a wall to steady him, to the amusement of the crew he was doing his best to ignore. He made it to the captain's feet on sore knees, and the pain in the brand did go away.

"Good, little fish." The compass was hanging around his neck now, being tucked away for safe keeping, and freeing his hands to pat his head and grab the collar chain. Kevin tried to shrink away, leaning back on his heels, but where could he go?

"This was your first lesson. You come when called." Kevin was dragged by the chain the last few steps to the wall of iron bars where the chain was fastened, too high up for him to lay down. It was still enough to rest his head against as the ankle bar was locked into place as well. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better.