The Pirate and the Mermaid, Chapter 1

The Pirate Prince sat up on the beach, dazed by the sudden light he awoke to. It took him a mere few seconds, however, to notice his stomach churning, and he turned just in time to heave up it’s contents. He groaned and forced himself to turn the other way to collapse onto the sand again. Just as he thought he could curb the wave of dizziness that had hit him, he felt a sharp pain in his cheekbone. He bolted upright again, which didn’t much help his vertigo spell, and cursed loudly, looking down. A ring, lone and golden, shining in the sand. He picked it up with his free hand, his other still rubbing his sore cheek. Turning it over through his fingers, inspecting it.

It was a lavish ring, the wide band embroidered with swirling waves and shells. On the back sat a large oval gem, a clear baby blue. Framing it was even more gold, shaped and designed like an extravagant picture frame. On the opposite side was a much smaller, hot pink gem, only half as big as the band it was embedded in. Around it was a single silver tentacle, wrapping it tightly.

The prince grimaced, his eyes squeezed closed as he rotated his head in every direction, stretching his stiff neck. When he opened his eyes again, he sighed, letting his arms go limp and hit his thighs. He looked out at the empty sea, staring for a long while as slow memories returned to him. Finally, as his head started to ache, he considered some more sleep. He spit to stop the vile taste of salt and vomit from rotting his taste buds. He leaned back on his arm, checking the sand for more misplaced jewelry before resting back down, closing his eyes once more.


Meanwhile, on dryer land, another prince sat on his throne. Once again, he was too distracted and indifferent to sit properly, a leg draped over one armrest and the opposing arm propping him up by the elbow on the other. He was grinning stupidly, absentminded and staring at the sparking crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling of the throne room.

Beside him a larger throne stood empty. The one he sat in now had been hastily put together at the discovery of his blood color. Of course, it was magnificent, but it was nothing compared to the empty throne he was forbidden too. He didn’t mind however. His little throne was enough for him.

His clothes shared the same fate. A golden, jewel encrusted crown had always been prepared, but none of the other inhabitants of the palace has been brave enough to correct the nobles by telling them what they had neglected. Even his large room had previously been one of the other nobles, who had been kicked out quickly and violently by the King. But the Crown Prince had no ill will. He was perfectly happy in his own little world, aided by his empathy and a substance he had somehow been able to hide from the rest of the inhabitants, including the King. The only ones who knew about it were his closest friends.

Of those friends, only one was on his mind right now. A lowblood, one the prince had met when he snuck out of the palace in his rebellious stage. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and he was excited to do so again. Of course, while he was to address anyone of the kingdom who needed their royalty, he was not to leave the throne room. But at least once a week, his lowblood friend had made sure to come in at this time. While he was there, he would hide behind the prince’s throne until the newest visitor had left. Then, they would continue their time together.

But now that he had been missing for over three weeks, the prince was getting worried. To both hide and suppress his concern, the prince simply upped his daily fix. The palace’s inhabitants had easily noticed his change, his amazing mood and steadily shortening temper making it hard to miss. The switch between happy and furious was steadily becoming less and less predictable. One particular guard had repeatedly shown concern in the disturbed prince, but every time he had tried to reach out to him, the royal beating him out of whatever room they were in, no matter if the spectacle was public or not.

Now, the Crown Prince stared happily at the ceiling, his eyes trailing the swirling designs to their end. But for some reason, whenever he reached one, he felt his heart beat painfully and it struck his forced grin up a bit. Even when the large doors of the throne room creaked open, he did not look down until he reached one of those agonizing ends.

"My Lord?"


"My Lord…?"


"… My-"

"WHAT?! … What is it, my motherfucking brother?"

The blue blooded guard was frozen in recoil for a few moment, recovering from the prince’s outburst, sweat already forming on his forehead and neck. Soon, however, he regained his bearings.

"Ah- My Lord, yet another noble has come down with the plague, and we are running out of room to house whoever contracts it. If we do not take action to prevent… ah…"

The prince had stood from his throne, stepping down the small flight of steps to the main floor.

"Equius…tell me, how many are dead?"

"… 103, My Lord. Including the peasantbloods."

"How many are still sick?"


"Then why don’t you tell them to get their motherfucking act together and get back to work?"

Equius was shocked, sweat pouring down his back and arms.

"Gamzee- ah, My Lord, they are deathly sick! It would take a miracle-"

Gamzee spread his arms wide, making his cape billow behind him and silencing his blueblooded “friend” instantly.

"Miracles are everywhere, my motherfucking brother." His maniacal grin splitting his face, natural, yet somehow forced as well.

Equius stood, silent, unable to think of anything to respond with. In his long pause, Gamzee stood still as well, but only for a few moments. Then, he let both his arms and grin fall, suddenly angry.

"Get out," he growled.


"GET OUT!" Gamzee snatched the crown off his head, letting it go in front of him and kicking it furiously in midair. It spun wildly toward the blueblood, giving him just enough time to bring his arm up to shield his head. One of the three sharp points punctured his skin, tainting the gold with blue. He spent a second to recover before responding.

"Y-Yes, My Lord," he said quickly and hurried through the doors again.

Gamzee was left alone in the large room. He stood, staring darkly at the doors even after the echos of their closing finished reverberating off the walls. Finally, he looked at his crown and the blue blood sluggishly dripping off its jewels. Only when his mind was completely blank and the glare on his face had subsided did he turn slowly back to his throne, his feet dragging and his eyes avoiding the larger, foreboding seat.