Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun is high, the birds are singing, there is a light breeze going through his hair. They have left Bohemia and are wandering through the beautiful landscape of Poland, yet Hans is in a foul mood because Henry is ignoring him.

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He cannot be goaded into a light race or to take a break. He refuses to engage in conversation, and when Hans nudges him with his boot, he just moves out of the way. Hans is ready to start whining in frustration just to make him look his way. But Henry just sticks his head further down into the map they have been given.

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Hans doubted he was ever meant to leave Bohemia, much less travel to the other side of Poland. He was supposed to stay and die in Rattay, but Hans refuses to be trapped there before he has at least seen the ocean. That is at least the argument he made to Hanush. He just reached for the first thing that sounded complicated, but more realistic than hunting a unicorn. Hans doesn’t know what possessed Hanush. Maybe for once, he took pity on the plight of his nephew, but Hanush let them go, and they left as swiftly as possible before Hanush realised how ridiculous a request it was. So the wedding talks are postponed. At least until he comes back, so Hans is taking it as leisurely as he can.

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Beside him, Henry clops on like they have business to attend to. Hans made them veer off the road to see a windmill, so Henry is trying to figure out where they are and gauge the shortest route to the next village. This trip is too long for them to manage with just a small bag, so Hans is, for once, riding his own horse while Henry carries the necessities. It’s weird. Hans has gotten used to being carried by Henry. He knows the rhythm of his gait like his own heartbeat. He barely has to open his mouth or nudge for Henry to know what he wants. When he had suggested they just continue like normal, Henry had just tsk at him and claimed it wasn’t fair for poor Pebbles to carry that amount of baggage for that long.

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The point was to escape with his best friend. Fool around in the countryside for as long as possible. See the ocean while they are at it, because why not? Postpone the future as much as possible, except that the mood is just off, and Hans doesn't know how to fix it. The distance is only so long, even with his detours, they will hit the sea eventually, and then they will have to turn around, and before they know it, they will be back in Rattay to the wedding bells and responsibilities. There is a lot he wants before getting married. There are experiences he wants to try and places he wants to be. There are talks he needs to have with his best friend. He doesn’t want to talk about the future, but they have to.

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-

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“Rattay will probably keep me busy when I take over. There will be less time for hunting.” Hans muses, and Henry just solemnly nods beside him like he’s only half listening.

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“Most of my time will probably be spent behind a desk! "Can you imagine?” he squawks. He can, and the thought terrorises him. Hans has never been one for sitting still. Growing up and sitting still for his lessons with the learned man always made him want to tear at the wall like a cat trapped in a barrel. He can learn to go out and mediate disputes or inspect fields, but he fears what will happen if he has to sit and look over a budget and what the consequences to his citizens will be when he makes mistakes.

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“I will be spending more time with a scribe than anyone else.” No hunting or drinking or whoring far into the evenings. He’ll be living like a damn monk when he’s not entertaining dignitaries.

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“Tell me, Hal. How is your reading going?” If he could just find a spot where he could sneak Henry in, then maybe he would be fine.

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“Still working my way through the poetry collection you lend to me.” Hans' mood fell. It’s a collection Hanush gifted to him as a teenager when he showed interest in poetry. It was mostly meant to woo women, but he always found them too simplistic in their prose. If Henry hasn’t made his way through, then he doubts he will be able to help him read through things like petitions and reports about the state of the harvest.

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-

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“When I get married, I won't have the need for a page.” Hans blurts out one evening around the campfire. Henry looks up from where he is bent over trying to make the fire catch the kindling. In the low light, Hans cannot make out his expression.

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“But I will need a bodyguard. He needs to be able to follow where I go. Help me keep order in the city. Would you be up for the task?” Tumble out after, and he feels like a child who dropped his ball, and he desperately needs the other boy to pick it up.

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“I believe so, my Lord,” Henry says, but he doesn't sound convinced. Hans bites down the urge to fall to his knees and explain himself.

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-

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“Pssst– Henry.” Hans hushes to a half dossing Henry, who jerks up by the sound of it. They are taking a rest on a hill to grab a bite to eat. It’s mostly just an excuse to sit down for a bit, and Henry is taking full advantage of the tall, soft grass to lie down for a roll and a nap. Hans appreciates the sturdy tree he’s sitting against, and its long, spindly branches that create the perfect amount of cover.

“wha—”

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“Look towards the tree line to the left. Behind the big apple tree.” Henry rolls over with a grumble to sit up, and Hans rolls his eyes at the dramatics. Behind it is a collection of figures shifting around, half hidden by the foliage.

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“Now, before they run off!” He hisses under his breath. He doubts they can hear him, but you never know, and this is important. At first, he thought it to be deer, until the closest one reached upward, and human hands latch onto a branch to pull it further down for another to come forward and start picking from it.

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“It’s centaurs,” he whispers. A full herd of them. It’s not a big herd. Maybe eight in total if there isn't anyone hidden behind the treeline. It’s a colorful bunch. There is an array of brown shades you will expect in this area, but among them is also a red one with broad tan shoulders and a full beard and a dappled gray one with beautiful silver blond hair. She trots further into the field. For a moment, he thinks she’s looking right at them.

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Hans was once told that the Cursed are the results when God doesn’t see fit to give bastards proper shape. They are stuck as half beast and man because he couldn't care to make a decision. Hans believes it to be horseshit. Maybe there is something to the basis of the theory, but if God cared so little about them, then why should he make sure that fish people didn’t end up in places without access to the sea? Just like any other creature, their shape is a regional thing. The fact that there are wild herds of them should tell you everything you need to know. And this one is definitely wild. None of them is wearing a stitch of clothing. The breasts on the gray one are fantastic. They look soft and subtle, but the right amount to fill a hand.

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Beside him, Henry is looking on in silence. His ears are perked up like he is listening along. laughter rings out. It’s from the gray one. It’s full and bright and filled with so much joy. She answers something back, but Hans’ human ears cannot make it out, but maybe Henry can.

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They look unburdened. Look so gosh darn free that Hans feels the jealousy squeeze the air out of his lungs. What does the life of a wild centaur look like? Is it just days of running and foraging, and lying in grassy fields? Hans would have no place in a herd of centaurs. He is forever weighted down with the burdens of man and a noble to boot. But Henry is a cursed bastard, and while the world treats him as such. Would a wild herd of centaurs do the same, or would they just see someone like them?

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Someone must have sent her a signal that they are moving on. With a lost look over her shoulder, she gallops over to join her herd, and they disappear into the forest. Henry lets himself fall back on his side. Neither tries to talk about what they just witnessed.

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-

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Hanush properly assumed that Henry and Hans' chosen destination would be Gdańsk or something similar. A nice big city with a booming trade. He probably hoped that Hans could acquire useful know how from the merchants and bring the experience back to Rattay.

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Hans will have none of that. He doesn't want to see a harbour, he wants to see the ocean. The rolling waves and the bare horizon. He wants ships fighting against the forces of nature. Eat a fish bigger than him. Maybe catch sight of a sea beast. But most of all, he wants to ride with Henry down a beach. Feel the wind and salt in the air, and imagine that he could just ride into the horizon for new adventures.

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The village they end up in is small and half buried in sand dunes. small sqaut houses with straw roofs. There is not much to see. There are boats in various stages of repair scattered around and nets hanging on lines like clean washing or garlands. A couple of people are still milling about, but it’s late enough that people are either home or at the tavern, so that is where they go.

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The tavern is at least familiar. The decorations might be fishnets and paintings of waves, and the men decked out in layers of waxed clothing instead of the familiar raw cotton and linen, but the hard faces of working men are the same as in any other place.

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Hans is prepared for the silence to fall over the patrons as Henry steps in. Except here, to Hans’ stunned disbelief, they barely glance at them before resuming their own conversations. The barmaid comes around and asks them what they want. Hans orders them two ales and moves to find a place where a horse could comfortably stand. Further in, there’s a spot wide enough that he could even lie down if he tucks his legs in.

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“You’ve come to see the mermaids, haven’t you?” At the table to the left of the window sits an older man. His beard is white like cotton, and he’s wearing a hat set low over his brow. His clothing is simple, well crafted, and lovingly mended. Henry's ear swivels towards him and makes an inquisitive little whiny. That’s apparently what it takes to grab his attention. Mermaids.

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Their ale arrives, and like a sucker, Henry slides his over to the other table. The fisherman grunts a thank you and takes a deep draught. With a satisfied sigh, he settles in and looks them up and down.

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“You’re not the usual travelers.”

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“We came all the way from Bohemia. Have you heard of Rattay?” The man snorts.

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“Never in my life. News doesn’t travel very far in places like this. I know about everything worth knowing locally and the next village over. Everything after that doesn't concern me.”

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“I’m Wojciech.” The man says with a tip of his hat.

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“Nice to meet you, Wojciech. My name is Hans Capon, and this is my friend Henry of Skalitz. God be with you,” He says brightly and puts on his most polite smile. The man snorts at him.

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“Go doesn’t have anything to say in a place like this. The ocean greets you.” Hans doesn't know what to say, so he just keeps smiling. Beside him, Henry shakes his head with a grin and reaches over to stick his hand out to shake.

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“I hope it will take good care of us then.” The man seems to like that.

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“We came to see the ocean,” Hans interjects.

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“Well, it is right outside. What will you be doing after that?” It strikes Hans that he has made a mistake by going to such a small town. If he had gone to Gdańsk, he would have had excuses to stay around for a bit. Here, he will pretty much just have to leave when he has gotten what he came for. For God's sake, do they even have an inn?

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“Is there anything else worth seeing, my good sir?” the man smiles.

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“Mermaids, for starters.”

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“Everyone who comes here should at least get a glimpse of our girls.” Nodding towards Henry.

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“You could probably learn something from it.” Henry just smiles awkwardly and scratches at the back of his ear.

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“But if that’s not your thing, I got something else,” He says with a drum of his hands against the table top. He leans over the table and waves to grab the attention of another patron. He points in the direction Hans is pretty sure the beach is. He cannot decipher what is being communicated between him, but Wojciech gives the other man a thumbs up. He’s ready to just chuck his ale, but Wojciech settles down again.

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“No rush. Finish your ale. You should order your friend a new one. The thing we are going to see isn't going away anytime soon.”

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-

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They go to the beach, and it is even grander, more overwhelming than he could imagine. There is something incredibly unnerving about not being able to see as much as a mountain in the distance. Just a vast, empty, gray horizon. He feels small in the grand scope of things. What is he and his troubles indeed to an ocean?

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He tries to ground himself. The wind is sharp against his cheeks. The smell of salt and rotting plants hangs heavily in the air. Looking over, Henry is trotting around, arms out, with a high, exaggerated gait. Sand is thrown away in clumps as his hooves dig in. Hans steps backward. The ground shifts under his feet.

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“Have you had your fill?” Wojciech yells across the beach.

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“If so, come with me!” He starts walking towards the sand dunes further down the beach. With a nod from Henry, they follow.

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-

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​The fisherman has dragged them out to the furthest point of the beach to look at a carcass. The animal is a light cast iron gray and white. Its body is oblong in shape, scored horizontally. and tapers down to a flat tail split to the sides. Its mouth runs hallways down its body, and Hans shudders at the thought of that thing coming out of the deep with its maw hinged open.

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Hans has only ever read accounts of water animals getting washed up on land. In the tales, they are of monstrous size, big enough to black out the sun if standing beside it. So this one is a bit underwhelming. It’s not because it isn't big, it sure is the biggest fish he has ever seen, but it’s not of those mythical proportions.

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“And this is a small one?” Henry says in great astonishment. His back is peeking over the back of the creature. Full attention turned to the man standing beside him. The fisherman laughed.

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“This one is practically a colt. It’s a crying shame you don’t get to see a grown one. The big ones are thrice the length of a boat. My cousin claims to have seen one the length of four!” Henry is doing that stupid expression of mouth gaping wonder.

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“Does this happen often?”

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“Nah. We usually get the small ones. A bit longer than you.” A muted thud rings out as the fisherman kicks the body. Nothing comes out of it. He turns and assesses Henry contemplatively.

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“Still fresh enough.”

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“Tell me, young man. Would you like to help flense the beast?” Hans is about to break in, they don’t have time for this, but Henry has already agreed. Wojciech beams and claps Henry on his horse shoulder.

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Breaking down a whale is a labor intense endeavour that seems to take half the village. It’s also grizzly and smelly, so Hans keeps his distance. After gutting the creature and dragging the innards into the sea, they start breaking down the animal. Long, heavy knives come out to cut the hide into strips. Henry is tasked with dragging a sickle like knife with a long handle down its side so it can be cut into more manage squares. How someone would do it without the strength of a centaur is beyond him. The flesh is brought over to a fire with a massive cauldron, where the hide is cut into even smaller bits and rendered for oil.

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“Would you like a rind?” An elderly woman has snuck up to his side. In a piece of cloth, she’s holding something dark. Hans takes the piece. It is still hot from the cauldron.

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“What do you do with it?” It’s thick. The outer side is bubbled, and the underside, where the flesh would be, is off white. It smells.

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“You eat it, of course!” she says merrily, like she is talking to a child. Hans does not want to be impolite to a grandma. So he carefully takes a bite. It’s thick, but crunchy like the skin of a pig after roasting. Fat flows when he chews it. He hums and carefully takes another bite. The old lady smiles in a knowing way and hands him a couple more pieces before going back to the cauldron.

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He continues to snack as the process proceeds. They are down to meat that they leave for the birds. Bones are sawed off until only the spine is left. Everything is carefully transferred to carts so they can take it back to the village. People start packing up. Henry comes trotting over, whipping sweat off his forehead but smiling.

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“Did you have fun?” Hans drawls.

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“Loads. I also had a good talk with the locals. Małgorzata will take us in for a couple of nights." Hans looks questioningly at him. They haven't talked about a couple of nights. What would they even be doing for that long?

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“You wanted to ride along the beach? It would be a shame to do it in this weather. And maybe if we stick around long enough, we get to see mermaids.” Henry is giving him such an excited grin, and Hans might be bored and freezing, but this is the Henry he has been missing, and he can do nothing else but go soft.

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“Good Man.” He says and hands him a piece of rind. Henry looks down at it in confusion. Hans mimes taking a bite, and Henry does. He looks wondrous at Hans and scarfs down the rest of it as Hans looks on in satisfaction. He hands him the last piece and brushes his hands off on his hose.

Chapter Text

It’s mid morning when Hans makes his way across the small yard. The sun is shining, but you wouldn't know it from the thick coverage of dense white clouds. It gives everything a soft touch. Colors stand more vividly, even the half yellow grass looks lush. With that being said, it does absolutely nothing for the crooked structure he is standing in front of right now. It's a study thing. The wood is dark and salt crusted. You can see where the wind and rain has worn down the paint in whorl like patterns. Sand is piled against the door in a small mound.

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Pebbles got the only stable in town where she is undoubtedly getting spoiled by the 13 year old girl they handed the reins to. Hans got the bench beside the heath in Małgorzata’s kitchen. Meanwhile, Henry had to settle for a boat shed. The old woman tried to apologise for the lack of comfort, but Henry would have none of it. He assured her that he would be fine as long as it’s windproof and dry. The old woman had left, and apparently convinced half the village to donate their leftover blankets. When Hans cracks the door ajar, he finds a nest of said blankets and a completely knocked out centaur.

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“Henry?” He murmurs and nudges his leg with his boot. Absolutely nothing happens.

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“Henry,” he calls out in a normal tone and opens the door fully. Lights from a clear sky assault the space. Henry just makes a grumbling sound and twists himself tighter into the blanket so only an ear sticks out.

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“Get up, you lazy bone.” A hoof does like a drunken wave, but that’s also it. He gets an idea. Slowly, ever so slowly, he kneels over Henry until he is almost cheek to cheek with him.

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He takes a deep breath.

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That he blows straight into his ear. Henry jumps like a startled cat. He tries to at least, but in the constrained space, still half draped in blankets and lacking that finesse, it looks more like a horse on ice with half its leg tied. Hans manages to avoid the traumatic head injury and is bent over laughing his head off when Henry finally gets the blanket off him and his legs under him.

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“Oh, my dear Hal.” He says as he wipes tears from his eyes.

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“Are you awake now?”

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“Aye” he answers in a flat tone and throws down the blanket. Hans makes sure to stay out of reach as Henry stretches out his legs while making a clicking sound with his teeth. He has the manners to at least wait until the beast is done with that before moving on with the program.

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“We should find those mermaids.” Hans has it all planned out. What are the chances that a mermaid will just appear this close to the coast? The ocean is big. It might take days, and they would also have to be lucky enough to be at the right place. Yes, mermaid hunting is the best excuse to stick around a bit longer.

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“We should find breakfast,” Henry retorts and suppresses a yawn. Hans throws him an apple, which Henry takes while looking disappointed.

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-

The walk down to the main square that is now quite a lot more alive than last night. People are milling about. Taking care of daily chores, repairing fishing nets, and dragging in boats for repairs. There is a chorus of voices somewhere singing a sea shanty. It’s all very charming. Like an adventure tale he read about when he was a boy. Henry is kinda shifting beside him. He has probably already spotted eight people he could do favors for to earn some breakfast, but he stays by his side.

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Instead of going to the beach, they go to the pier. Everything is quite a bit noisier this time around. The sky is filled with white birds calling out over the sound of the waves and the wind. They wander around pecking at nets or floating in the waves. Hans would have found it unnerving enough had one of them not suddenly started screeching at them like a demon. Its wings are fanned out. That's when he realised it’s not just white. Hans curses and weaves out of its way. Henry just laughs at him. Henry trots towards it, and it might not be intimidated by a man, but it sure is by one ton of centaur.

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“You are out early,” someone calls from behind them. It’s the fisherman from last night. He’s dragging a lot of robes and something that looks like a strange birdcage. Whatever he is caring for, the birds seem to be very interested in it. He shoo them away when they get too close. It nearly flies up in Hans’ face, and he flinches out of its way.

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“Small demons the lot of them. But what would the sea be without them.” Wojciech says in a fond tone that the birds clearly don’t deserve it. With a grunt, he puts the equipment down to stretch out his back with a sickening crack.

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“You arrive with perfect timing. Could I tempt two strong lads like you to help with a task?”

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“What kind of task?” Henry says, intrigued.

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“I got some lines and some cages I need to empty. I used to have a lad from the village help me, but he left town last week.” He grouses, he looks towards the ocean with a sigh. He runs a paw like hand down his neck. Hans felt pity rattle somewhere in his chest. Looking around this morning, it struck him that there weren’t a lot of young people around. A couple of children minded by older folks but not many in the age where they would be getting them.

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“I can’t pay you much but–”

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“You can pay us in breakfast,” Hans says, and Henry’s ears perk up. Hans and Wojciech shake on it as Henry scurries over to pick up the equipment and rope.

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“Seems to me I'll be the one getting the better deal.” The fisherman says with a raised eyebrow, to which Hans shrugs.

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“You would not believe how much this beast eats.” Henry snorts and starts to walk towards the beach.

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“You don’t need to carry everything,” Wojciech shouts, but Henry just shrugs and trots on.

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“It really doesn't bother me.” Together, they make their way over to one of the moored boats. Its hull is painted red and expertly maintained. It’s also pretty small.

“I’m not sure how I will fit it?” Henry says, clops a hoof against the edge of the hull.

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“You won't. Our way’s part here for now. I’m not paying for centaur strength, I'm paying for extra hands.” Hans wants to say out of the question, but he’s also haunted by the last time he denied taking part in menial labour. Not to mention they already said yes. Henry already looks dejected in failing his new friend.

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“I don't know anything about boats,” Hans says instead.

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“Let me take care of that part. You just sit tight and enjoy the trip.”

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-

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Looking towards the beach, the four legged stick figure totters along, waving its arms towards them. Hans is pretty sure he is yelling, he can see the agitated swipe of the tail. The man beside him laughs under his breath.

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“Horses. A dependable sort–” he says good naturedly.

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“Henry isn’t a horse” Is a response so ingrained in Hans’ mind that it’s nearly out of his mouth before he realizes the old man isn’t done.

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“–but then again, so are men.” Hans is caught by surprise, so he just nods in agreement, which seems to please the old fisher. With a satisfied grunt, Wojciech goes back to adjusting the sail.

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“That sort of thing is important when you are at sea. You need to trust that your fellow sailor can steer clear and has your back.” The sail changes direction, and they pick up speed. On the shore, the stick figure has started running.

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“At battles, too. I can’t count how often Henry has saved my life.” Hans says.

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“That conflict is still going on? That’s the good thing with small “desolated” villages like you so aptly described us. Conflict seems to stay away. What army comes for us when the only thing we can offer is fish!”

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“Waterways are important for warfare. The river flows all the way to Warsaw.”

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“Boy. You have seen our beaches. Nothing will be marching from our coast.”

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“And if they do, the girls will have their picking first.”

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“You lot seem awfully relaxed about having the cursed this close to home?”

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“Those girls aren’t cursed. They’re native and they were here before us and they will stick around long after.”

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“We’re just guests on their waters, and that is good and all.”

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“But?”

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“There aren’t any buts. We respect them, they respect us. If you keep your distance, they are perfectly safe.” The stick figure is lagging behind. Then he stops, bent over his hands braced on legs.

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“So they don’t drag people into the sea?”

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“They don’t drag our people into the sea.”

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“For someone with a cursed one for a companion, you seem awfully concerned about them,” Wojciech says with a raised eyebrow, and Hans feels the flush rise up.

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He wants to argue, but a quiet plunk stops him. Something has struck the side of the boat. Wojciech turns the sail so they stop. Then goes to the railing and hums in satisfaction at whatever he’s seeing. Hans joins him. There's something bopping in the water. It’s attached to a line that goes into the depths. With a stick on a hook, he pulls the end of the rope into his hands. Hans only barely manages to catch it as it is thrown his way.

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“Here we go. Start hauling.” The boat sways under his feet as he pulls on the rope, and slowly something rises from the depths. It’s some kind of cage. There's a splash as the thing breaks the surface. The fish in it wriggles with newfound energy. Last ditch effort to save themselves. One manages to wriggle out of the entrance of the overstuffed cage. It strikes the water with an anticlimactic splosh. For the rest of them, their fate is sealed when they hit the basket in the boat. Wojciech pulls a knife, grabs a small one, and with deft hands strips it off its head.

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“I don’t like what you are insinuating,” Hans says, but Wojciech just keeps removing fish heads that he dumbs back in the cage. Blood is running down in rivulets, the fish are still moving. Hans looks away at the grisly sight.

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“Hans is my most trusted man. We have gone through too much to leave space for prejudice.” Nausea rises in his throat. It is probably just seasickness.

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“It’s hard to change a man’s heart, but it’s easy to make exceptions.” The cage is dumped back into the ocean. Wojciech turns the sail again, and they move on. Hans would like the conversation to do the same.

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“‘If one happens to want to see one of the girls, how would one go about it?” That seems to make Wojciech perk up.

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“Your best chance is at night, for starters. If you go looking in the day, you’ll spend the rest of the month here if not longer.”

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“There is a lagoon further down on the cliffside. You might catch them there, but it has to be a sunny day, which doesn't seem to happen anytime soon. But then again weather in a place like this is known to change on a dime. The sky got temper only rivaled by the sea.”

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“This is starting to get complicated. Last night, you made it sound like a common sight.”

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“It is if you live in the area. Guests like you. They aren't fond of them.”

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“Tell you what. I have a secret spot where I often see them. And I will give it to you as a favor to your four legged friend. Walk down to the east on the beach until you hit the fallen tree that goes into the sea. Sometimes they make court there.”

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"Thank you.”

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“We all help in the ways we can. That's the spirit of a community like ours.” They pass into silence.

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“How many cages are left?” The fisherman laughs.

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“You'd better roll your sleeves up now. We have a long way to go.”

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-

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Hans could kiss the ground, sand and all, when they finally made land again. Wojciech is still there, so for the sake of his dignity, he refrains. Doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need a moment bend over to wait for the ground to stop swaying. He gulps in a mouthful of air, hoping it will alleviate the nausea, it tastes like what he has come to learn from Wojciech is seaweed. Light thuds against sand announces Henry trotting over.

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“Should I report back to Hanush that the way to make you do manual labour is to trap you on the ocean?” He says amusement is clear in his tone, but there’s also a strain of relief that warms Hans’ heart.

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“Ah fuck you.” Henry whickers in bemusement. He stomps his feet. Hans looks up to meet Henry face to face. He’s bent over the frame, his arm behind his back like a proper manservant.

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“Do you want a ride back?” is said with a shit eating grin, and the illusion falls away, revealing the audacious dolt beneath it. Hans gulps in some more air. It still tastes like fucking seaweed and salt.

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“For once, I think I would prefer to walk.”

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-

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As the day goes on, the skies clear up. You can’t call it nice. Nice weather is a clear sky with a light breeze. They got a clear sky, a vibrant blue shade Hans has never seen before, and only rivaled with the blue of the ocean, but by god is it's windy.

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They go on that ride. It must have rained last night because the sand is wet and hard packet. just one long stretch of even ground without as much as a stone in sight. It gives Henry the perfect amount of traction as he tears across it. The wind is both buffing him in and tearing at his clothes. grounding yet threatening to tear him out of the saddle. Hans steers them into the shallows, and his hose might be getting wet, and the water might be cold. The spray is refreshing across his face, in the late summer heat. Henry howls in exhilaration, and Hans joins in. Like a pack of wolves, the wind howls with them.

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The world has narrowed in. It’s just them and the long stretch of sand and ocean. Hans wouldn't mind if they could stay like this forever.

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They end up back at the alehouse. Just like the day before, the fishermen don't seem to hesitate with Henry. His helping out with the whale yesterday probably helped, but there is still something to the way they greet him like age old pals. They get roped in for a dice tournament that they lose to what Hans is pretty sure is cheating. He can’t say anything, because knowing Henry, he’s cheated right back. There is laughing and hollering, and rowdy tales about conquests on the battleground, at sea, and in bed. In between, they pull tidbits about the mermaids or the girls, as everyone seems to fondly call them.

​

They keep tabs on them. They have meticulously narrowed the group down to at least 12 recognisable ones, and with a couple of stranglers they have yet to make a profile on. Encounters swing wildly between sightings that feel closer to a brush with a ghost or maybe a wild animal, to very personal engagements bordering on being too private to talk about in public.

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One fisherman has a fight going on with a mermaid who keeps stealing his catches and filling his cages with stones. No better than a seagull, the man grouses. Apparently, he knows which one because she’s getting fat. Another fisherman who’s probably too far down the tankard has proclaimed his great love affair with a redhead and is walking Hans through how he would propose marriage and build a house halfway into the sea for her.

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They drink some more. Eat something called clams. Beside him, Henry is laughing and shouting along to a shanty he just learned. At this moment, Rattay is very far away, and Hans feels a sense of freedom and camaraderie he has never experienced before. Here he is, no noble that has to be placated. Here he is, just a fellow man standing by his own merits. They both are.

​

Like one moment to the other, the day has ticked by.

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The high spirit is probably the reason why they, despite the weather, still see reason to go down to the beach to check for mermaids. The moon is hanging low in the sky. Its bright light reflects in the water so clearly that it creates a shining trail that goes all the way to the horizon. A part of Hans imagines that he could jump on Henry and walk it.

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A gale passes that nearly trips him over. The winds at the sea are something else. It tumbles chaotically. The only real direction is from the broad span of the ocean. The sand is wet, and hard packet beneath his feet, so it stays where it is. Hans would have liked to be able to pull into Henry's side so he could take the wind and Hans could leech some of his warmth.

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Except the dolt is standing in the shallows and chewing seaweed.

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“How does it taste!” Hans yells out to the ridiculous creature. He’s bent over with his legs spread wide to not drip water all over himself. He got a full clump of plant in his hands, head turned sideways to use his molars to chew. Neither thing are quite working.

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The yell of “salty” is muffled. Hans sight in bemusement. He’s about to demand that they return to their lodging when Henry suddenly goes still and his ears turn further towards the ocean before his whole head follows. Hans squints into the darkness to try to figure out what took his attention.

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Something is splashing in the distance. Far enough out that you could brush it off as an animal, until a very human limb flails into the air. He doesn't have to have horse hearing to make out the moaning, keen ring out over the wind. It’s a woman. And she is not alone.

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Dark scales glint in the moonlight as its back breaks the surface. Henry throws down his catch and lurches further into the shallow, towards the woman and the beast. Hans doesn't know how he plans to get the creature away, but he knows that if Henry spooks it, it might just lunge for her and flee.

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The woman goes under with a scream, and Henry abandons his careful movement and tears after her. She’s gone, there is not as much as a splash. He’s walking in circles, head going from side to side in the hopes of catching even the faintest splash in the waves. His moment becomes more and more frantic the longer she stays under.

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A thing surges out of the water in a flash of scales and pale skin. Henry rears with a scream, which does not deter the creature from climbing up. It twines its long, sinuous body around him like it wants to squeeze the life out of him. Its arms are flung around his torso like a lover begging for forgiveness. Bird like feet are scrambling to find purchase against the span where his human torso bleeds into his horse body.

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They hang in the air. It’s the woman, or at least half of one. A cascade of dark hair clings to its pale, wet flesh like seaweed tendrils. He would have called it beautiful had its face not been distorted into an open mawed hiss. At its hip, wings like fins are splayed out. A well shaped torso flows into a long, copper green snake tail. With a twist of its body, it forces Henry down. In a spray of white against the blackness of the night, he goes down into the deep.

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There is no way for Hans to intervene. It’s too deep for him to walk out there, and what would he even be able to do with two creatures of that size and ferocity fighting? He’s rooted on the beach. Only able to pray that Henry will win, but at least make it out. Absolutely useless. Water courses where the two creatures are fighting under the surface. In a burst, Henry reappears. The serpent woman is clinging to his back. He bucks under her weight. Throws himself forward so he can attempt to kick her tail off him. His back legs wave wildly. One of them catches a coil and dislodges it from his leg. With his newfound ability to move, he starts to pull towards the beach. The thing on his back uncoils some of its length. It throws itself off his back to pull towards the depth.

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For once, Henry doesn't have size on his opponent. The creature outweighs him, but he has four legs and enough traction to resist its pulls toward the deep. But only barely. The flapping of its wing like fins becomes more frantic. It yanks uselessly at what surface it can get a hold of. It cries out in frustration. A haunting sound of a woman in pain and a dying animal. Henry flinches, buries his ears between his arms, but continues his fight toward land.

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A splash from further out at sea distracts Hans. Something is moving under the water. Multiple things are moving, and they are searching towards Henry like leeches towards unprotected skin.

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“Henry!”

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Something dark under the water lurches. Pale webbed hands latch onto his legs like ropes tying him in place. Maidens with fish bodies curl up to snake around anything they can reach. The first one. The one with bird claws is back on his back and slung around his horse shoulders. Her torso raised tall in front of him, and she forcefully grab his face between her hands to make him look her in the eyes. A thumb caresses a cheekbone, her hand trails along what Hans knows is velvet soft fur of his ear. Hans knows the stories of the sirens who lured men to their death. But this doesn’t look like any siren he has ever heard about. It doesn't matter.

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To Hans' horror, Henry stops fighting.

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The thing only has to lean back to get him underwater.