꧁༺ 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓭 ༻꧂

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 26

The trader sat with his legs on the table, an open book covering his eyes to shield them from the light streaming through his eyelids. He slept peacefully, dreaming of things he probably shouldn't be dreaming of at his age: the pretty images of young women flooding his head like a flash flood at it's 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝑒𝓈𝓉.

Everything was perfectly fine, until he heard the begrudgingly familiar sound of his dreams being interrupted by the loud banging of the wooden door. Had people lost their common sense to knock lightly? The trader groaned, swinging his legs down to the ground.

"Come in!" He yelled, taking up the wine from his desk and pouring it into a small shot glass he weirdly carried around everywhere he went.

In barged two large men - also familiar - armed with their guns and swords. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with them, but they were here, so it would be so incredibly rude to just deny them his services when they'd probably travelled a long way for.

"Oh, what do you want now, you great big baboon." The trader grumbled, slumping his head down into his hand.

The biggest man slammed his hands down on the trader's desk. He glared the older man down, but it didn't intimidate the trader. The old man sighed. He asked again what the two men wanted, this time with little patience on his tongue.

"You've broken into the palace before, correct?" Asked the large man in front of him. It caught the trader a little off guard, his eyes widening.

"Yes," he confirmed, "why? Why would you even want to know that information, Chris?"

"Because, Wesker," Chris continued, "I'd never thought I'd say this, but we need your help."

"We? Don't tell me all of you are here again."

"We are. And you're going to help us, Wesker. Whether you like it or not, you owe us."

The old man sceptically looked the larger man up and down, contemplating. Wesker was a stubborn man, and he wasn't known to help anyone. Not anyone. Asking him for a favour was like asking a cat to get up and start singing and dancing; never ever are you going to see him do it.

But, on this special day, apparently Albert had a change of heart. The trader remembered all the times those pirates did the favours he asked, the tasks he needed to get done, the trades from the islands (legally).

Guess it was time to return the favour.

"Tell me what for, then I'll help you."

---

The prince strutted proudly down the hall to the dungeon door, leading a band of his knights down the twisted spiral staircase that lead underneath the palace. He wasted no time strolling over to Harlynn's cell, unlocking it, swinging the bar door open, then ordering half of his knights to take the ex-pirate out in cuffs to the arena. From there, the whole of Rohan will get to watch the scandal be beheaded.

He turned to you, scanning your glorious body over one last time. The prince hated sirens, but he had to admit, you had the most voluptuous hair and buttocks he'd ever seen, especially on a male siren.

The young man chuckled to himself, his ego and pride shining out on his smug, malevolent smirk, shaming you in every way possible with just one look. He'd make sure that you only have the last look of the old man as he was dragged away to his death. He even gave you the mercy of not seeing the man's head roll off the stage as the crowd cheered, which, in his books, was the nicest thing he'd ever done for a siren.

The tears that began to well up in your eyes as you watched the poor old man leave your sights - the way you curled up into a ball, your scaled arms hugging your elegant tail - only brought the cruel prince more and more joy. He just couldn't wait to see your head jabbed on a spike for his kingdom to gaze upon while he sat charge on the throne.

You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to what could have been your only remaining friend left in the world. You weren't even given the chance to say anything, and neither did Harlynn. You could only watch from the corner of your cell as the prince smirked and laughed, walking away with the old man in the grip of the guards.

You felt like crying right then and there, sobbing your heart out because, really what else was there to do anymore? Chris and the crew, along with the love of your life, Leon, had most likely left the country by now, the elf you knew as your friend was just taken away to be beheaded, you were so far from home, and you were all alone.

It hurt. It hurt to know that this was how it were to end. At least other people would find joy in your death, you supposed. Besides, we all die someday, somehow. Maybe this was how your story's ending was written. Maybe death was the way Poseidon saw fit for your death. Maybe death was the only way out of this mess.

Oh, how you longed to be in your mother's arms again. It was a childish thought, but could anyone blame you? You'd hardly even begun your years as an adult, being only twenty summers, and you weren't used to the harsh environments you were exposed to on land. You were used to the nice, calm, happy environments you shared with your family and peers under the water, where everything was safe and secluded.

Not this. This is not how you intended to end up. The worst part was that you'd never even told your parents where you were going. They were probably worried sick, and what would they say when they found out you'd died? Of course, they'd miss you, but they'd be so disappointed in you.

As the thoughts clouded your mind, as the tears began rolling down your red cheeks, a loud clanging sound of metal against metal rang out through the cellars. You jumped, startled by the sudden obnoxious noise.

It came from the small window that shone light into the unlit halls of the dungeon. Someone was at the bars, trying to break into the dungeon. But who? And why?

"Hello?" You called out, the desperateness to hear someone talk to you, maybe even save you, breaking through into your tone. You tried to move your long tail into a better position so you could see who it was, but it was far too cramped to move in the little cell.

"Hello? Are you (y/n)?" A husky voice replied. The voice was unfamiliar to you, but somehow this person knew your name.

"Yes! Who are you?"

"Someone who was told by every-" a loud wrenching noise came from the same direction, "single-" and another wrenching noise, "one-" and another wrenching noise, this time with the sound of metal bars flying out of brick, "of your friends."

He said friends, so that must've meant them, right? "Chris? Jill? Leon?" You wanted to hear them call back - you needed to hear their voices again.

"Yes, (y/n). It's us." Leon. Gosh, how you'd missed his voice so damn much. You almost burst out into tears when you heard his voice. They hadn't left you for dead after all. They still cared for you.

"Oh, thank Poseidon. Can you get me out?"

"Hold on," said the husky voice, "we'll send down the skinniest one to get you out."

Now, the hole that was created was far to small for practically every pirate there - except, of course, the small fry Winchester. All eyes, again, landed on the young man, causing him to tense up. Not only was Chester afraid of the dark, insects, and being put on the spot, but he was also extremely claustrophobic.

"Come on, Chestnut," Quin encouraged, placing a tender hand on her little brother's shoulder, "you can do it. We believe in you. It'll be quick, I promise. Just don't think about it."

"Do I have to?" He questioned, an obvious quiver in his voice indicating he was already scared to walk any further. "I've done so many things like this already. Why can't someone else have a turn?"

"Because your scrawny, young, and stupid." Wesker said bluntly. "Now get it that damn hole before I personally shove you down there like dirty clothes in a laundry dropper myself!"

That was enough to convince him.

---------

a/n

THERE WILL BE A PART 2!!!

DO NOT FRET MY CHILDREN!!!

its just rlly fuckin late and i can NOT rn otherwise my microscopic brain will miscompute and e x p l o d e its g u t s all over the place.