the little mermaid | jellal fernandes [discontinued]

Chapter 9- Brutal Words

I was about to let my eyes trail to the upper deck, before I heard a melodious, familiar voice that send my mind singing.

*

My mind went numb.

All I could do was watch with bewitched eyes as the entrancing figure opened pale lips.

"Freed, could you get Bickslow to take over the wheel? Erik wants a break," he calls, voice mellow and thick like honey, penetrating through the dull drone of my ears.

It was him.

Jellal.

My first instinct was to call his name.

Call him out, extend my arms to him, asking him to come to me, since I was unable to come to him. But I couldn't- my tongue was lead in my mouth, weighing down immensely. I was surprised my jaw could hold my astonishment.

I watched him, clad in a loose white shirt with a deep collar, tucked into grey pants with the same boots he always wore. Wears.

But... how can this be?

Too many questions whirled in my mind at once, forming a hurricane of turmoil.

His appearance struck at my heart, impaling it as I watched him exchange an easy word with the masked man. He looked just like I remembered him- tall with messy locks, slanted honey-brown eyes. Yet after two years he emerged as more mature, through the striking, sharper jawline and the experience that his eyes held.

What has he been through all these years? I wanted to know; wanted him to tell me. For us to continue laying on the beach, sand heating our skin under the vivid sun, listening to his soothing voice as it lulled me to sleep.

Why did he leave me?

The question struck at my heart like lightning, splitting it in two.

"May I have your attention, please? I have an announcement to make," a posh voice broke the celebrations, instruments going quiet. Silence enveloped the previously joyful scenery, and everyone listened intently to the green-haired man. Someone in a higher rank, I realized.

With a parched throat, I watched Jellal come forward, seating himself on a barrel.

It couldn't be him.

But it was, sitting there, pure flesh and blood. That painful look of pure serenity on his face, unreadable to many, and those who could read him were always there with him. Like I should be.

"Ladies and gentleman, erm, well just gentlemen- you have been set on this sail for the last few days to celebrate-"

"Psst! (y/n)!"

"-of his highness, who has be granted the highest honor-"

"(y/n)!"

"-a knighthood beyond imagination, the first prince who has done so of Crime Sorcière since 300 years ago. And following that, of course, was this expedition-"

"Oh my god, is that a Grindylow?!"

"What?!"

My head snaps downwards to Amica, in desperate search of the sharp-toothed sea monster. When I realize it was just her catching my intention, I meet her impassive eyes.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, there wouldn't be a Grindylow here. They dwell in lakes beyond our reach high in the north, barricaded by land. No merman had ever seen one before,

"Come on," I urge. "It's... Jellal."

And within a second, she uses her powerful fins to push herself out of the water, and I catch her with ease. Water splashes over my cheeks, and she finds home in my own lap of (f/c) fins.