Captain Owen Clarke

favorite character meme → two emotions [½]

~that awkward moment when your ex wants to extract revenge on you and your entire family and you don’t know it~

alskdjflksdjkff jk jk i do think he feels lowkey baD about like dragging rebecca into this buT if alistair gonna take owen’s mom from owen, he’s gonna take alistair’s children from alistair ig alksdjfkldj bc he may or may not have been totally inspired by emily thorne/count of monte cristo but shhhh you didn’t hear that from me alkjdflkjsdf

annnnnyywayyyy, im totally up for whatever, re: their previous attachment, even a one-sided thing, if that works best for what you’d pictured for her!  but yeah it defff would’ve happened before papa turner left owen and his fam to fight for themselves and owen’s mama diEddd and owen started blaming alistair for it alsdkfjksldf but i def love the ideas you mentioneddd!! but yeah sdlkjfklsdf omg that’d be such bad timing if she leaves him for will and then her dad leaves him in order to help her and his mom dies alskjdafkljdsfkj IM A TERRIBLE PERSON but im laughing so hard rn likE?????? omg??????

ANYWAYYYYY i also deffff feel like his increasing extremism was almost def a problem in their relationship and, if it wasn’t yet, it was ~going to be and that wrting was probs, at the v least, already on the wall bc he was always like *anakin skywalker voice* ‘that’s not good enough!’ at meetings and alkdsjfkljsd i mean, spoiler alert for upcoming characters, but after he left/his mom died, etc, he literally ended up teaming up w a person who strings up/burns at the stake/murders public-execution-style innocent mages just bc they’re mages which is literally what she as a fae is fighting against happening to fae so al;ksdjflkjsdf he’s got some issuesssss

also potentially in the ‘some other stuff’ category, the fact that he…just left likeeee they might’ve been on the outs and he just left tho tbh he’s more the type to burn his bridges (*wink, wink* im playing a pyromancer this is noT the last flame pun you’re gonna here) first bc he’s a messy bitch who lives for the drama lksjdflkjsdajkf

Okay, so I’ve thought about it a little more, and I do think that it was definitely a mutual thing. I also think that her feelings for Will would have been a reason that she left him, however I don’t think that she would have straight up left him for Will??? Like, I think she would realize that she cared for someone else more and that would have been a huge part of it, but she wouldn’t have exactly went from one to another, y’know? I definitely think she would have given herself time and honestly probably wasn’t even sure if Will returned the feelings either, but she diD know that she had fallen out of love with Owen and that was enough. 

I also think that his more extreme ideals definitely played a part in it. I think she understood where he came from, but also thought that he would eventually come around and realize that his measures made him just as bad as them  – and that they shouldn’t be out for revenge, but I feel like her trying to reason with him would only make things worse, not better, and while she would always try to resolve things, I do think that there was probably still some tension surrounding that subject. 

I’m not sure if Will and Becca became a thing before or after Owen left, but I do think that he could also probably tell that there was at least ~something~ between them and I don’t think that it helped that Rebecca would probably also always side against him and with Will whenever those arguments arose about what to do. 

As far as how they actually ended up breaking up, officially, I’m definitely open to him just kind of leaving or if it was more defined (whatever you think???) 

(i think i might’ve...misphrased some stuff bc i didn’t meant to imply that he would leave her in like a mutual thing, (i mean, im sure there’s defa circumstance in which he would do that don’t get me wrong...but) i meant that he would notice more and more her longing looks at will and irritated ones at himself and just like...stand her up a couple times, start to ignore her, and then maybe even show up at some event he knew she was gonna be at w ~someone else before ~she could break up w ~him bc lakjsdlfkjkdjsf that’s the way you do that ;DDD  as terrible as this ~is tho i think in his way??? its weirdly meant as much to be compassionate as to be spiteful, so she doesn’t have to feel bad about ending things??? but also so he can feel he still has power in the relationship and didn’t just wait around to get rejected????? idk???? He’s weird aklsdjfkljdsfk idk what to tell you laksjdfkljdsf)

but!!!! that being said!!! im totally down for this!  i think it makes a ton of sense that owen would actually be a stepping stone in realizing she had feels for will, but also her playing it cool and being patient and respectful of everyone’s feelings <3333333 angel <333333

i def think they would’ve been arguing more and more and more towards the end!!!! esp as he got more and more radical and she was objecting and aklsdjfkljdsf yeahhhhh it probs wasn’t ~great ngl but tbh it probs only got worse when they broke up bc i do think he was tryna hold on to some ~better self~ while he was w her and after that he was just sorta like ‘forget this i don’t need to hold myself back for some better angel what i need is changE’ etc

tbh???? i can also see, in the heat of argument esp if she was defending will to him or smth -- bc i know he was jelly af whenever he’d walk in and see will and rebecca chatting or whatever -- him accusing her of having feels for will or being w will secretly or whatever and tbh he probs didn’t mean it but once it was said it was said and yeah :/

tbh im not sure when will and rebecca got together, either, but i def think he was nursing a thing for her for a while and just like ‘she’s too good for me itll never happen but that won’t stop me from loving her from afar’ kinda thing so honestly any time she was game he was probs 1) star struck and 2) totally game hahaha

but anyway back to owen alkdjsfkjdsf i do think everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s probs not surprised to find that out esp since the fae finders would’ve returned like ‘yeah we sunk that ship’ and yeahhh!!  

ok so tbqh im not really coming up w any ideas except that maybe once or twice they crossed paths when aloysius was w isabella, or whatever?? and owen was always rude af bc it was obv that aloysius wasn’t exactly a rebel but he probs didn’t realize he was a literal prince…and/or if he ever did, he def tried his hardest to get the rebels to like kidnap him or whatever and ~that was probs a whole disaster tbqh alksdjfkljdskjf sooooo yeah laksjdfkljdsf

although I feel like Aloysius would actually weirdly respect Owen for being rude to him since most people just try to get on his good side and he’d be like “thanks for being real with me, it means a lot” aldfjaljf I feel like they would be these weird frenemies (owen: we are enemies!!! aloysius: we are friends because friends don’t lie!) 

owen, just tryna pick a fight: you look like shit today, man

aloysius: thanks for being real with me, it means a lot

owen: 

aloysius:

owen: wtf kinda mind game is this????

omg but them bickering while dating turner sistas <3 what a mess i love it sm that is precisely the kinda chaos that feels just right and that isabella would absolutely have a hand in cultivate w/o ever, ever meaning to #flawlessmydear

no but honestly idk if aloysius would ~literally thank owen for his honesty but i can absolutely promise it would throw him for a loop alskjdfkljsfk he would noT know what to do w that alkjsdfkjsdjfk WE ARE FRIENDS BC FRIENDS DON’T LIE LKSDAJFLKJSDKFJKJF owen later complaining to sia about it like ‘my day was TERRIBLE i think i accidentally adopted a prince today -- no, i did ~not invite it, i was just trying to insult him!’ ;DDD  weirdly, though, like???? if it stayed that way long enough??? i feel like young!owen would v grudgingly and sighing a loT and rolling his eyes continuously be more and more ok w him and gradually more and more like [ this ] laksjdflkjdskjf (but only to a point bc obv he’s got some rather significant problems w aloysius’ family and is also, yknow, a rebel, a wanted man, an outlaw just for breathing etc so!!!!!) it’s complicated!!!! lkajsdfkljdsljf either way tho that journey woulda been sloooooow af and looooong and it’d be one of those where gradually the insults become terms of endearment shhhhh bc young!owen is as a big a mess as older!owen just in different ways alskdjfkljsdlfkj

also aloysius and owen trying to describe their relaitonship to someone else

alo: we’re friends bc friends don’t lie

owen: we’re not friends

alo: gods, he cracks me up w that line everytime

owen: *sighs*

jk jk but honestly what a meSS and i love it already alkdsfjkljdsf

ngl, owen will defffff encourage him esp if the turners are in earshot and he thinks it might give them some lol’s he’ll be like ‘ah yes pls tell me more about rebecca’s favorite pastimes i can’t believe she’s not fashionable enough to collect snakeskins.  shameful.  im sure when you’re married you’ll help her overcome this defect.  do you have any strategy for...encouraging this shift?’ etc

KLDJFKALSDJLFKJDSKLJFKLJDSKAJFKSDF ROBERT PICKING FIGHTS AND REBECCA LIKE FINALLY SOME PEACE AND QUIET YALJSDFLKJSDKLJFF IM SCREAMING also, most of all:

OOC | Owen & Eleanor

so, as i mentioned in lucy’s comment, these two probs know e/o!!!!! he’s breezing in, acting like he wants to pick up amicably where things left off…but revenge is his ulterior motive dun dun DUNNN ;DDDD

Eleanor: Do you enjoy cards?

“If anyone can wring an ounce of good out of that sorry excuse for a man,” he bit out at last.  “It’d be you.  Arthur Ardenne has never lifted a finger to stop the annihilation of my people -- his own subjects.  Maybe you can use him to save yours.  I hope so.  But I wouldn’t wish that fate on you.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”  Owen swallowed, a hard thing and tight against his throat.  “He and all those who cow tow to him are monsters.  They deserve the burn for what they’ve done.”

He nodded, solemn, and strangely still.  “That I can understand.  You have to do what’s right by those who look to you.  There’s no choice.  Anything less would be...betrayal.”  His fingers tightened.  Yes, the captain in him knew it well.  The brother in him, and the fae who had never been served as he ought by his country knew it still better.  But the lover?  The lover knew it not.  His gaze found hers, lingered, drank her in, those beguiling eyes that had stolen long ago into his mind’s eye, met his gaze with poise, with purpose.  She knew as well as he that this was a kind of sundering, a wretched turning point -- with neither party willing to turn and walk away.

“So, you marry the King.  If all goes well, he plunges this nation into war with the greatest conqueror of our age.  Fortunately, Kinazin will be surrounded on two sides, between Harmanil and Aclea, so let’s say this war is won.  What then?  Are you then beholden to a tyrant, your lord and husband, who will now consider himself quite entitled to your crown, when the time comes, and will see any children you two may have as his, entirely.  You will have saved lives, yes, but you will have sacrificed them, too.  What, precisely, do you think he will do to you if he ever learns your secret, Arya?”  He shook his head.  “I won’t try and stop you if this what you truly wish to do but, Arya, promise me one thing -- promise me that you will think this through very carefully.  This man is not to be trusted.”

Yet, he heard her speak of the devestation of her people and he nodded.  She was right, of course.  What other choice did she have?  The situation was impossible.  If she did not act, thousands upon thousands would suffer and die.  Was he really as selfish as that?

“Forgive me,” he said at last, pacing away from her a moment, pacing back again.  Slowly, deliberately, he took her hand.  “I simply...I have, I always shall, wish you happy.  Whatever else may be and may have been, all the gods know its true.”

She spoke of the flag.  His brows contorted.  “What?” he whispered, shook his head.  It was clear she was genuine.  Besides, he did not believe she would lie to him, if it were not so.  “What?” he repeated, this time somewhat indignant. “Of course it was the same cottage!  I could forget that place if I forgot my own name and, anyway, what kind of sailor do you take me for?  I know we met because I shipwrecked, but that really wasn’t our fault!  We were attacked!”

He fell quiet, considering slowly, cruel revelation rolling over his mind.  “Arya,” he began at last.  “Who knew about us?  My crew, who had been with us and seen us together, of course knew, but they all sailed away with me.  Did...did anyone else, by chance, know?  Anyone...in Harmanil?”

A breath.  A breath.  Another.  He was staring at her, staring at her but he thought perhaps he did not see her at all.  Perhaps he had strayed into some wonderful daydream of her, after all.  Oh, yes, that must be it, he must have drifted to sleep, lulled by the sweet sweep of the waves.  He must be dreaming, because herwords, her looks, they were fantasticals, figments he conjured up from a kaleidoscope of half-remembered hopes: impossibilities.  Yes, yes, that was the only explanation for any of it -- all of it.

Clouds of Yesterday || Owen x Arya (feat. Aulus/Sekhad)

A long stare.  Owen gazed long at her, his fingers digging, digging into the bench and imperceptibly, imperceptibly he inched forward to study her face, as if he could read there something that would banish the torrent in his mind.  There was nothing there to see.  Abruptly, Owen jumped up, paced back towards the hedge, then back again.

“What?!”

He stood where he was, his hair and greatcoat alike tousled by the gusts of ocean-wind that swept along the coast, but he did not notice, did not notice the thrashing of the shrubs around them, or the wheeling seabirds overhead crying to one another.  Each revelation seemed more incredible at last till, finally the words Heir to the Sunburst Throne had escaped her lips.  None of this jived with his own memories, an orphaned peasant girl – a mermaid – living alone in a tiny cottage by the sea, rescuing and saving shipwrecked sailors, smiling shyly at him as if she’d hardly ever seen a man before, swearing to wait for him, swearing to pitch a flag for him…How could any of this be?

He sank, half-eagerly, into the bench beside her.  “Surely you…jest,” he said, finally, but glancing down, he noticed her feet peaking out from the hem of her dress, stared at them, taken aback.  He looked back up to her again, brows contorting.  Oh, he’d seen her standing on the shore – at first he’d reasoned it couldn’t be her (after all, it would not have been the first time his eager heart had imagined her standing before him only to find another face looking back instead), but the instant she’d turned…all doubt was erased – it was her without question.  He’d assumed she’d learned some means of…appearing to stand on a fin…and then she’d walked…Perhaps…she somehow faked that, too, but those were feet, sure as day.

“I–” he shook his head, sat back from his half-imploring attitude, and shook his head.  “I don’t understand.  How…how is any of this possible?”  His eyes widened, mind reeling back to fairy tales of his youth suddenly – she was apparently a princess, after all.  “Were you cursed?”  Instantly, the ridiculousness of that claim overcame him and he shook his head.  “No,” he muttered.  He cleared his throat, cast his gaze out towards the see as he attempted to order his fevered mind.

When he turned back to her, his expression was calm again.  He stood again, this time pacing before her as he ticked off notions on his fingers, glancing occasionally to her for confirmations.

“So, if I understand you correctly, you were born heiress presumptive to a throne and,” he shook his head.  “One day the Princess of Harmanil,” he said in an emphasized way that showed he was trying to wrap his mind around it.  “Decided to go for a swim, became a mermaid?  And rescued a bunch of…shipwrecked sailors?”  He stared at her for a moment, then he laughed.  “You must make an odd princess, indeed,” he added, half-teasing, half-unsure.  He shook his head, returning to the story.  “You, princess that you are, decide to play mermaid nursemaid to us and stay there for…however long it takes for us to recover, though…You were gone for long stretches at a time, weren’t you?  I confess, I thought you were just…” he shrugged.  “Underwater.”

He paused, mulling this over, before continuing.  “You begin a dalliance with one of them.”  

Which, he realized.  I can only assume, given the princess bit, was just a bit of harmless diversion.

“And when he offers to bring you with him aboard his pirate ship, you probably did your level best to suppress a riot of laughter, given that – rather than gaining anything – you’d be losing quite a bit,” he added, flushing slightly.  

And then say that you’ll wait with flags and the whole bit, but that was just as meaningless as the rest, I suppose, he added, mentally.  Hence, why neither mermaid nor flags were ever there.  

“And, as soon as they’re gone, resume your…princess…activities…?  Whatever those are.  Is this truly what you’re telling me?  Oh, and also, the fin was optional, the whole time, I suppose?”  He turned to her, brow quizzical, astonished to learn all this…and fighting, fighting to suppress the quailing of his heart.

The only thing that had mattered…gods, it had all been just a bit of meaningless fun.  He’d never mattered to her at all.  He laughed, a mirthless sound, and turned to face the waters far below.

“Is this the truth, Arya?”

For a fleeting moment the young woman thought perhaps this revelation would be taken in stride. That perhaps the manner in which Owen stared at her was only his way of listening attentively. Or that he was leaning towards her to press a gentle kiss to her lips as he had done so long ago. What?! Of course not… A sigh instead dropped from Arya’s lips as she set her parasol aside and began to remove her gloves. Of course he would think her jesting. Janahara had thought much the same when Arya had told her after being assigned to her retinue. It, among many other things including her country’s security, was one reason she kept her true nature so close to her chest even among her closest circle. “I assure you I am quite serious.” She replied. “It was not a curse, it was not a mistake. I am both a mermaid and the daughter of the King of Harmanil by blood. Both things can be true at once, you know.” A deep breath coursed through her system and she folded her hands stiffly in her lap atop her discarded gloves. “I understand this is all quite a shock, but I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.” 

Please do not let him hate me for this… Please, I could stand anything but that…

At last he spoke, shifting slightly, raising his gaze at last to her face.  “I--I don’t know what to say.”  He shook his head, ran a hand across his mouth.  It was strange and fantastical -- something out a fairytale.  How could this be real?  But she wasn’t a liar and he...But, no, best not to think of feelings.  They were a layer of complication and currently what he needed was clarity.

“I’m sure you’re right, I just need...some time to wrap my head around this.  For years I thought I knew who you were and what was happening and...what was between us, but now?  I find I...know nothing at all.”

He stood, again, paced to the cliff’s age to gaze out over the sea.  If this was all true, even if she loved him as fervently as he loved her, it could never be.  Her duty would never allow her to wed a fae Aclean criminal refugee.  Her country was at war, in danger of invasion: she needed a price or a king to help her protect her people.  All he could provide was a little fire, making him about as effective as three or four soliders.  She didn’t need that: she needed full armies and gold and, well, a crown.  Even if the war resolved itself and peace took hold, he still wouldn’t be a suitable partner.  She was a ruler: she needed a ruler beside her.

Owen bowed his head as she asked what he’d do in the reverse position.  “No,” he owned, softly.  “You’re right.  I could never have abandoned my sister to slavers and murderers.  Never.  I had to get her back, whatever it took.  And, even once that crisis was over, I--” he shook his head.  “Even if I had gone with you, we both know it could come to nothing, what with your royal crown.  That’s why you’re here, I suppose?  To fetch back a husband with one to match?”

Turning back to face her as she spoke of him never returning, he stared at her with undisguised anger.  “Never returned?  What are you going on about?”  He shook his head.  “I returned.  I returned constantly, as a matter of fact, I returned and returned and returned, hoping against hope that finally this time, this time I’d see your face.  But each time I came back -- nothing.  No flag, no note, no you.  Do you know how that felt, Arya?  Do you?  Do you even care, or was I just some...” but he broke off, broke off and turned towards the coast again to watch the roiling sea far below.

Clouds of Yesterday || Owen x Arya (feat. Aulus/Sekhad)

His heart fluttered as she nearly addressed him by his given name.  He swallowed hard.  An old habit, or a premonition?  He half held his breath, barely noting how the other man’s eyes narrowed with interest at the slip, as well.

Owen opened his mouth to retort to the dark-haired man when Arya, instead, spoke.  His jaw snapped shut and, suddenly, he was all attentiveness, his mind bent upon her.  

“It is true, Arya – the state of being royal is meant to be so innate that one of such distinction must never announce it – it can only be said by others…and must surely be noted instantly by all who gaze upon them.”

Instantly, the man sighed and rolled his eyes as if in reaction to his own words.

He smiled, glancing towards Arya.  “That is what royalty is taught, is it not?  It’s what Aulus was taught anyway.”

Owen frowned.  “I thought you were Aulus.”

A wolfish grin.  “Who else would I be?”  Almost instantly, his expression shifted, he cleared his throat as if to interrupt himself.  His tone was tired again as he spoke.  “Perhaps we ought to let Her Highness resume the introductions.”

Her eyes found him, brands deep and dark, dipping to stamp his soul with their burning caress.  Owen knew well the heat fire, knew its unquenchable thirst, but, gods, it was nothing to the gaze of his Arya.  She spoke again, a joke.  He cleared his throat, half-laughed in reaction, almost surprise, as if he’d just found once again he possessed the faculty of speech.

Arya apologized for the Prince’s behavior…and the reasons for her relationship with him.

“Only a fool,” said Owen, softly.  “Would discount the effect of such charms.”

“Spoken,” said the Prince, with interest.  “Like a lover, not an acquaintance.”

Owen turned sharply to face him.

“Forgive me,” said the tired tone.  “I forget myself at times.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Owen.  “A captain, though I have left my ship behind me for now.  I thought it perhaps time I leave the sea behind.”  After all, there had been no flag, and no woman…but now?  He looked meaningfully at Arya.  “But gods know, a sailor carries the ocean with him, wherever he goes.”

His eyes sharpened when she said she’d thought they’d not meet again.  What had all that talk of flags and waiting been about?  But…clearly things had changed since last he’d seen her – this…prince and princess business was proof of that much.

“Forgotten you?” he echoed, astonished.  The stars would sooner forget the sky, he thought, almost said, but that detestable prince was staring at him with undisguised interest.  He had never wished to punch someone in the face more.

“Oh, yes,” said the Prince.  “He looks as if he has forgotten all about you, doesn’t he?”  The prince laughed.  He face shifted in that unaccountable way, again.  “Yes, it’s time we–I go.  It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Clarke.”

Owen dipped a quick bow of recognition.  “And you, Your Highness.”

His tone shifted again.  “You need not worry about Lady Jahanara.  I can prove wonderfully distracting when I’ve a mind to be.”  Thus, the other man departed.

Owen felt off-balance, unsure how to feel, until his gaze moved from the retreating prince to Arya’s countenance once again.  Tears stood out in her eyes, those irresistible orbs half pleading.  Her gaze was deep as the ocean and, gods, how he should like to drown in them.  He did not think.  He closed the gap between them, touched her cheek.

“Arya,” he whispered.  But he remembered himself, jumping back.  He glanced away quickly, breathing in through his teeth, before turning back to her.  Something in his core was melting again with the power of her look, some steel he’d built around himself was sloughing off in globs and he sighed, pressed his eyes shut.  This would not do, but there was no remedy for it.

“I–I don’t understand.  What are you doing here?”

“Owen…” She breathed out in return, eyes fluttering closed as the joyous, unforgettable feeling of his fingers brushing so gently across her cheek returned to the young princess once again. Instantly she was transported back across the years, across the waves, home once more upon the seaside cliffs of Harmanil at the cottage her mother had left her. Moments that had seemed lost to her forever. She reached up to touch his hand with her own and leaning her face into the warmth of his touch. And yet as quickly as it came it ebbed away as with the tide. Arya opened her eyes slowly once more, brow furrowing in a momentary bout of confusion as the scent of fresh flowers hit her senses instead of salty sea air. A flush crossed those soft cheeks Owen had brushed so gently. She could almost hear her father reprimanding her now.

“What?!”

He stood where he was, his hair and greatcoat alike tossled by the gusts of ocean-wind that swept along the coast, but he did not notice, did not notice the thrashing of the shrubs around them, or the wheeling seabirds overhead crying to one another.  Each revelation seemed more incredible at last till, finally the words Heir to the Sunburst Throne had escaped her lips.  None of this jived with his own memories, an orphaned peasant girl -- a mermaid -- living alone in a tiny cottage by the sea, rescuing and saving shipwrecked sailors, smiling shyly at him as if she’d hardly ever seen a man before, swearing to wait for him, swearing to pitch a flag for him...How could any of this be?

He sank, half-eagerly, into the bench beside her.  “Surely you...jest,” he said, finally, but glancing down, he noticed her feet peaking out from the hem of her dress, stared at them, taken aback.  He looked back up to her again, brows contorting.  Oh, he’d seen her standing on the shore -- at first he’d reasoned it couldn’t be her (after all, it would not have been the first time his eager heart had imagined her standing before him only to find another face looking back instead), but the instant she’d turned...all doubt was erased -- it was her without question.  He’d assumed she’d learned some means of...appearing to stand on a fin...and then she’d walked...Perhaps...she somehow faked that, too, but those were feet, sure as day.

“I--” he shook his head, sat back from his half-imploring attitude, and shook his head.  “I don’t understand.  How...how is any of this possible?”  His eyes widened, mind reeling back to fairy tales of his youth suddenly -- she was apparently a princess, after all.  “Were you cursed?”  Instantly, the ridiculousness of that claim overcame him and he shook his head.  “No,” he muttered.  He cleared his throat, cast his gaze out towards the see as he attempted to order his fevered mind.

When he turned back to her, his expression was calm again.  He stood again, this time pacing before her as he ticked off notions on his fingers, glancing occasionally to her for confirmations.

“So, if I understand you correctly, you were born heiress presumptive to a throne and,” he shook his head.  “One day the Princess of Harmanil,” he said in an emphasized way that showed he was trying to wrap his mind around it.  “Decided to go for a swim, became a mermaid?  And rescued a bunch of...shipwrecked sailors?”  He stared at her for a moment, then he laughed.  “You must make an odd princess, indeed,” he added, half-teasing, half-unsure.  He shook his head, returning to the story.  “You, princess that you are, decide to play mermaid nursemaid to us and stay there for...however long it takes for us to recover, though...You were gone for long stretches at a time, weren’t you?  I confess, I thought you were just...” he shrugged.  “Underwater.”

He paused, mulling this over, before continuing.  “You begin a dalliance with one of them.”  

Which, he realized.  I can only assume, given the princess bit, was just a bit of harmless diversion.

“And when he offers to bring you with him aboard his pirate ship, you probably did your level best to suppress a riot of laughter, given that -- rather than gaining anything -- you’d be losing quite a bit,” he added, flushing slightly.  

And then say that you’ll wait with flags and the whole bit, but that was just as meaningless as the rest, I suppose, he added, mentally.  Hence, why neither mermaid nor flags were ever there.  

“And, as soon as they’re gone, resume your...princess...activities...?  Whatever those are.  Is this truly what you’re telling me?  Oh, and also, the fin was optional, the whole time, I suppose?”  He turned to her, brow quizzical, astonished to learn all this...and fighting, fighting to suppress the quailing of his heart.

The only thing that had mattered...gods, it had all been just a bit of meaningless fun.  He’d never mattered to her at all.  He laughed, a mirthless sound, and turned to face the waters far below.