Not for the faint of heart. I used the darker side of merfolk to write this.

Warnings: pseudo-cannibalism, blood, unsettling deaths and sensitive material for brief moments, the barest hint of rape, and general monsters being, well, monsters.

He hated the lake. He hated that he was used to entertain someone. Had they asked him to kill the alligator, he would have. But they had captured him and forced him into the pond. They were careful at first. Now they were getting lazy. You should never be lazy around a monster—especially a monster you capture. His time was soon. And then he, his son, and his younger brother would be free at last.

Big, black eyes blinked at the bottom of the lake. He was belly down the muddy bottom, his sharp, claw-like fingers curling into the mud beneath his head. He could hear the humans above with his pointed, slender ears. They weren't the human he wanted, but perhaps he could send them a warning. The single, shark-like fin on his back was dug awkwardly into the mud when a smaller mercreature, the tough cartilage of his kind was fashioned to be hard and unyielding, nuzzled against his belly, clinging close and whimpering in hunger. He ran a hand down its back. Fish were not enough anymore. The humans would suffer now.

They were monsters, and as the stories said, monsters eat people.

He could hear them laughing and jeering at the top of the lake, unable to be seen in the murky water of the depths, where he felt most at home. They wanted a glimpse of him. The smaller boy attached himself to his stomach as he started swimming up, slowly, carefully. His younger brother followed curiously.

He got as close to the top as he possibly could without being seen and started playing the game he always did. He let his fin touch the top of the water to cause ripples. He could hear the maidens gasp and the boys holler for more. After a few more minutes, a few splashes and a couple of rocks later, the boys would get antsy, and he would flash his fin. He was grateful for the fin-like creations on his elbows, helping him with handling in the water as he made several tight curves.

Another cheer, and the boys went in a little farther, taunting, jeering, and his younger brother was finally catching on. They moved farther into the middle of the lake, showing their fins, and the boys got cockier, the maidens too, lifting their skirts to wade in a bit. Young women tasted better than young men. Their flesh was softer, silkier, richer because they weren't treated like men. They were just expected to sit around all day and gain weight to show how rich they were—perfect for a young mercreature like his son.

They showed their backs a little farther away, and the kids cheered again, wading in just a little bit more. They let themselves sink below the water before taking off at high speeds, screaming as they jumped, their claws outstretched and their mouths full of razors, grabbing the pretty young ladies and dragging them under the water before they knew what was happening. They pulled the two down, down, down, to their nest, the thrashing and kicking slowly stopping as the humans died, and they ripped into the flesh, the youngest one detaching himself long enough to bury his way into the corpse, eating the insides that were the most tender and nutritious. He shared one with his younger brother, their black, beady eyes conveying everything they needed to know about what was going to happen.

Now was their time for revenge.

It was only a few minutes later before they heard the yelling, the screaming, the general chaos of above the water, and he buried himself partly in the mud, his child against his chest once more, happily fed, and he listened as his younger brother nestled against his side. The mutilated, devoured bodies of the young women were, no doubt, floating at the top by now, their naked bodies a horror to the people on the surface, but he didn't care: he was fed and content, his charges nearby. He nestled down farther, keeping his child warm, and he could feel his younger brother's nervousness from beside him. He ran a hand down his back, his claws lightly scratching against the tough hide. He would be hungry again soon, years of underfeeding plaguing them, too stubborn to die. He could already feel his child stirring, that familiar whimper of hunger haunting him. They hadn't had a decent meal in years, and it was catching up to them now that they had one good meal. He had watched and waited, and the forces surrounding the lake were thinning out. So he had attacked. The king grew fat and lazy, and the children and soldiers arrogant and stupid.

"Creatures, if you are out there, we wish to speak to you. Can you hear us?"

Even in the depths of the lake, he could hear the humans. He wanted his undersea vent again. If it hadn't been for the natural heated springs below them and the sun, they would have died of cold.

"I don't think they can, sir."

"You underestimate them, idiot. My father always warned me to never play in the waters. He was right. Your children are cocky, arrogant idiots to play with monsters."

He detached the sleeping, shivering child from his chest and had his younger brother cover him, swimming leisurely to the top and touching his fin against the top of the waters.

"So you do hear us."

A splash of the tail.

"Why, mercreature? Have we not treated you fairly?"

He screamed in an explosion of water and threatening moves, swimming toward the shores and feeling himself jump from the water to grab the man and scrape his claws against his throat. Pathetic: he could smell the fear the man gave off. There was the sound of someone loading their bow, and he heard the man make a small noise.

"You take my freedom and my family, and you expect me to fall at your feet thanking you?" he hissed, and his voice sounded rough from lack of use.

The king was tense in his arms. "What do you want then, monster?"

"My freedom."

The king inhaled deeply, his breathing quivering with fear as he tapped his claws against the human's Adam's apple. They had incredible dexterity even in the shallows of the water. They were the pinnacle of aquatic fighting.

"What would make you stay?"

"Nothing."

He inhaled deeply, through his mouth, drinking in the fear that radiated from the man, and he couldn't help but pass his claws over the rolls of fat, knowing his child would be even better well-fed with this ugly beast.

"If I were to say no?"

"You will die."

"If I were to say yes?"

"You will give me your fattest young woman to feed my child and spare your life as the pathetic coward you are."

The king inhaled deeply, then, without batting an eye, he uttered, "Bring me the plumpest young woman we have. Take your freedom and leave."

He waited patiently as there was a quiet murmuring before, eventually, there was the sound of a young lady stepping forward. He looked, giving a feral grin. As soon as her feet touched the edge of the lake, he hissed in pleasure.

"Now take your freedom and go," the king hissed.

He pushed the king forward into the lake, raking his claws through the girl's neck and dragging the body under the water. With all the heavy dresses, he could drop it off near the middle and let her sink to the nest, where his child would awaken and no doubt feed greatly. His child would be healthy again.

Then, on a whim, as he heard the people leaving, he swam forward quickly, screaming and grabbing the king's leg, dragging him under with a cackle that chilled the soldiers. He pulled him down to his younger brother and watched his face light eagerly. As they ate, he swam along the bottom, stirring up the currents with the high speeds his kind swam at. He raged well into the night, smashing into the boats of the soldiers who would try to spear them out of the lake.

He had been contented to lie low in the beginning, when they fed him well and gave him both distance and respect, but he would not let any more harm come to his brother and son.

When the soldiers' boats snapped in half, he would watch as the ones that couldn't swim sank in their armor, their last glimpse of the world murky waters and a demon grinning at them before two clawed hands much different from his would grab them and pull them down. They would eat well for the next few days.

He was content to lie low with his brother and his son, feeding off the corpses, the water's edge blessedly silent, and he knew their time to escape was soon. The feast that rolled around several nights later, as tradition so demanded, would require all the soldiers at the castle, and no trip to the lake that year. He gathered his child and his younger brother, pulling them up and out of the lake, slipping through the trees on the opposite side with the grace of someone who had done it for years. As he dried, he could feel his human form taking shape, stretching and pulling at his skin and stretching it as he ran away. It was a rather trivial thing for him, his voice. He knew that his younger brother couldn't talk, and his son was deaf, but it didn't matter: they were free.

They ran well into the night, down into the village and slipping through the shadows as they followed their call to the sea. The sea was their mother, their protector, their provider. When they were pulled away from her, she called them back. When she was happy, they were happy. And she was never happy when her children were missing. His younger brother was still too young to properly feel the pull toward the ocean, and his son had hardly touched the waters.

They ran until their legs collapsed from the cold of the night and huddled together as close as they could. They were a stubborn people. They would not die that easily.

Morning found him jolting awake as he clutched his son close against his chest. His younger brother was beside him, and he looked around at the room. It was small, barren, save for a table with some human food on it and a few chairs. There were two young men sleeping in another bed, and a large fire in the hearth and a cauldron that already had something in it, steaming. A washing basin was pressed securely in the corner. His younger brother stirred, but he found his eyes drawn to the men on the bed. He adjusted the covers around his brother again, the small child clutching tightly to his shoulders and neck as it slept. He carried it over, looking at the two men sleeping before his eyes widened: they were merfolk.

He could feel it, deep in his bones and by the strong urge to shake them awake until they decided to go back to the sea. If they were captives, too, then there would be war to rage. One had no arm, and from the outline of the other, he seemed normal. He wondered when they had gone missing. The younger of the two groaned, stirring, and he stood there, watching, waiting. Two bright blue eyes fluttered open, followed by a huge smile.

"Hi! You're awake!"

He blinked, nodding slowly and covering his child's head. He moved out of the way as the young merman sat up. He seemed so jovial for being away from the sea.

"There's food on the table if you're hungry!" the boy said as he hopped out and started walking around.

He was only a few decades younger than himself, weak and emaciated. No doubt that he had been eating the food the humans gave him. He almost wondered if he had ever tasted human flesh. His skin had been a rich tan, he could tell, and then he began to look ragged and sick. Regardless, he seemed completely normal—until he grabbed the cauldron that had been simmering—and didn't flinch. The young man had lost his sense of touch. He set the thing on the table, looking at his hands briefly before shrugging.

"Would you like some?"

He blinked, then frowned. The other merman stirred. He wondered if they had forgotten they were merfolk. He wasn't even sure it was possible for a merman not to know they were from the sea—especially if they changed in water.

"What's wrong? Can't you speak?"

He blinked, stepping back to the bed as he saw the other merman get up. "Kadar, do not be so ridiculous. We will have to report them to the master if he speaks the name of his owner."

"Oh… They're slaves, too, Malik?"

He watched the other man go pacing across the room, not even sparing him a second glance as he sat down beside his younger brother. They even had names. How… cute. How… disgustingly human and utterly repulsive. He had to know just what happened to make them forget the basis of their birth. He clutched his child tighter, staring, scowling. Humans were disgusting.

"Undoubtedly."

He let go of his son and walked over, the baby still clinging and the shock expressions on the other two's faces something to remember. Malik's eyes narrowed, and when he approached, kneeling on the dirt floor and drawing, he could hear him scowl. He drew the waves and the ocean.

"Oh! A drawing game! How fun!"

There was no response from the older brother. He drew, with his shaky human finger, the merfolk as best he could beneath the waves. Even from his childish drawing, it was clear, however. The air around the elder of the two men was somber, but the other was still just as naïve and cheerful as before.

"The mermen," the older one growled. "Was your ship wrecked by them? They have been growing—"

The man stopped, twisting his lips tightly shut as he gave him a thorough once-over. He could see the gears in the man's head turning, and he knew that the man knew he was a merman. He thrust a finger at him, and the man pulled back, startled.

"Me?"

He jabbed the picture again. He couldn't believe that they couldn't recognize they were merfolk. He didn't believe that they couldn't feel the pull toward him and the sea. Well, he doubted that the older one didn't know, especially since he had gotten that look in his eyes saying he knew he was a merman.

"Take you to the merfolk? I heard there were some in the lake at the castle a few towns over. I heard they started eating men. I'll hand-deliver you to—"

He rose, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his jaw. His fingers curled into fists. Surely, the rumors were false. No merman should be forced to forget his true nature. If the elder knew they were merfolk, but the younger didn't, it was a disgrace to the boy's name and the name of the merfolk. They would die if they stayed on the land for too long. He needed to know how long it had been since their last full transformation.

"I knew you were one of them."

His lip curled triumphantly. Malik grabbed his brother by the back of the ratty tunic and tugged him back as he went to offer him some of the contents of the pot. He curled one hand under his son.

"Where do you want us to take you?" Malik growled, and he pointed at the picture. "Then I refuse."

"Wait, what?" Kadar asked, tilting his head. "They're merfolk? I thought they were all women!"

"You fool!" Malik hissed at his brother, and he looked around, noting the wash bin in the corner was filled with water.

He walked over as Malik hissed at his brother in hushed tones, and he dipped a hand into the bin, watching as it transformed back into its original state and slid against the clothing. He jumped when he heard something gasp in his ear, and he slashed blindly at the noise, watching as the younger of the two stumbled back, bleeding from a gash on his cheek. He blinked before scooping up water and massaging it against his throat, trying to coax his voice back into working. Malik was in a tizzy, trying to stitch the wound, and he kept massaging the water into his throat. The man was a demon, trying to keep his brother from knowing what he was.

"You are merfolk," he rasped, and fuck, it wasn't enough. He needed a full transformation for his whole voice. "Come to the sea, and remember."

"You're crazy," Malik growled as he pulled out the needle and thread.

Kadar tilted his head, causing Malik to hiss. "But, Mal, you always promised to take me to the sea one day."

"Not with these idiots, I won't. Especially not if they're merfolk—"

He didn't hear the end of the sentence as he plunged his head under the water, and he could feel his skin morph back into the head of a mercreature. He could feel the hair shrink back into his skull, the teeth grow, and his ears stretch. He lifted his head from the water and breathed in deeply, looking at the brothers and hissing, "You will escort me to the sea, or I will eat you."

Malik stiffened. That was one good thing about humans, or merfolk who wanted to believe they were human. They were easily frightened, and nothing was worse than a half-transformed merman standing over their wash bin.

If they never cleaned with more than a rag and some water, no wonder they never transformed. He hissed, snarling at them and watching as Malik moved in front of his younger brother. Already, he could feel the transformation back beginning as his skin dried. Kadar looked morbidly fascinated as his skin wrinkled and cracked. Malik was watching him cautiously, as he should. The seconds stretched to minutes in the tense silence, and he felt himself change back into a human.

"I'm not taking you."

He walked back over to his younger brother, sitting on the bed and rubbing his back as he clutched his child close. He shook his head as he felt his son stir against his chest, whimpering quietly for food. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He needed to get away from these idiots. If they wouldn't help him, he would find his way there anyway. His younger brother stirred.

"Do you have names?"

"Merfolk don't have names. That's how I know we aren't merfolk, Kadar. The master even told us our names and backgrounds."

"Oh… then let's name him Altair!" Kadar chirped. "And the baby Darim!"

"What of the middle one?"

He covered his face with a hand, shaking his head slowly. These men were idiots. The older was a heretic, a demon, a lying, conniving piece of flotsam that had washed up on the shore.

"Should we tell the master?"

Malik shook his head. "We will tell him they need to return to the coast."

"Will we go with?"

"If the master allows. I'm not sure I want you to be around him. He's dangerous, Kadar."

"So?"

The man was quiet after that when a knock came at the door. "How are the three from last night doing?"

Kadar gasped, quick to throw open the door with the needle still hanging from his cheek attached by the thread, and he bowed. "G-good, sir! But they need to return to the ocean!"

There was a tense silence as a portly man stepped through, wrinkling his nose at the servants' room but staring straight at him. "Sir" gave him an once-over when he rose, and he couldn't help but eye the fat on his body. He would feed his child and brother nicely.

"Don't even think about it," Malik hissed.

"Do they have a name?"

"No," Malik answered, looking at "Sir" and bowing. "However—"

"The eldest I gave the name Altair, and the baby Darim!"

"And the middle?"

"I couldn't think of one. Sorry, sir."

"Sir" chuckled and looked at the boy. "Perhaps Ezio? After my sister's son?"

"Brilliant, sir!" Kadar exclaimed, looking excited.

"Right," the man said, coughing into his sleeve, "what would be the best way to get you three out of here the quickest?"

Oh, so even the master of the household knew he was dangerous. He must have dealt with other merfolk as well. He blinked, pursing his lips. He may have had a human body, but he was still inhuman. He wondered how Malik and Kadar ended up in his service. He wondered how they hadn't eaten him yet. His child cried out again, louder, and he bumped him gently, rocking. He gave a calculating look at "Sir," who was already in the threshold, Malik standing between them, scowling. He smirked.

"Right, I will have horses ready for you—"

He pointed to Kadar.

"I'm sorry?"

He pointed again at him. Him, he tried to convey, or I rend your family limb from limb.

The man certainly seemed to catch on, but he seemed reluctant to let go. Altair stepped forward a pace, and "Sir" stepped back. Malik got in a fighting stance. His younger brother was sitting, yawning and stretching. The man scowled.

"Brutish creatures. Fine. Take the young man."

"You can't be serious," Malik hissed, looking back at the man. "Master or no, I am not allowing my brother to go to the—"

He found himself leaping the table and shoving Malik against the wall before he knew what happened. The man snarled and thrashed, trying his best as he clawed at the hands around his throat, and he positioned himself between his legs, showing him as he tightened his grip that, yes, he could not beat him and should give up. When Malik tried to go for his child, he threw him into to the cauldron on the table. His lips curled in a soundless snarl as he spun to look at "Sir." The man was already gone, hopefully preparing the horses for them, and he looked back at the brothers, glaring as Kadar helped Malik up.

His younger brother stood up and walked over, hugging him tightly and pressing his face into his side to tell him he was hungry. He clicked his tongue again, rubbing his back, and held him tightly: they had been dressed. How human. He paced out of the room and out to the foyer, watching the people and servants walking around. He eyed each of them. He would have to hunt carefully, now that he was out of the water. He couldn't draw too much attention until he was near the sea. There so many people out and about. Eventually, he went to attack, but Kadar came running up before he could even get near his target.

"You'll take me with, right?"

He blinked, and his fingers curled as he prepared to catch a human to feed his younger brother. He could feel something curl in his belly as he stared at him. He had felt it seventeen other times in a hundred years, and last urge gave him his child. He looked at him, wondering if the boy would be able to carry a child if fertilization took place.

"Please?" The young man dropped to his knees and hugged his leg. "Please? I'm dying to go! I've wanted to go for so long, but Malik always said no!"

He raised an eyebrow, and Kadar looked up long enough to catch it. In their true form, they were hermaphrodites, and he had actually carried his baby. Had he gone above water with child, he would have been a human woman since they were better equipped to carry a child. Merfolk who had already had a baby stood a better chance of getting another pregnant, but it was a one in twenty chance of it happening. If Kadar was with child, the pull to the sea would be stronger.

"He says the ocean is a deadly place, full of terrible creatures, and that I can't go, but it really isn't fair because I've been acting good to the master like he says—"

He squatted, cupping Kadar's cheek. The boy was crying. He glanced around the foyer, watching as people stopped, and Kadar sniffled.

"I've wanted to go to the sea ever since I woke up here with Malik, and the master told us that we got caught in the fishers' nets after falling overboard. They transferred us here since we were so badly injured."

He stiffened. So the boy had forgotten. He had gotten caught in a fisherman's net—no wonder they worked so complacently for "Sir." If it had been him, he would have run off after healing.

"And I always wanted to try fish, but it's too expensive here to feed it to a servant, so I never have and sometimes… sometimes…" He leaned in close at Kadar's gesture, and Kadar whispered, "I dream of blood and the best tasting meal I've never had, but nothing here comes close to it."

He smirked. The boy didn't remember his heritage, but he certainly had dreams about it. He pulled back, and Kadar looked extremely upset, the tears lines dried on his cheeks. He was filthy.

"Malik tells me it's bad of me to think of things like that."

He was appalled—he feared to know what Malik had become. No merman should ignore his calling to the sea: it was deadly. He pulled the boy close, and Kadar pressed his face into his neck. He was so thin, his arms were long and spindly, and there was almost no muscle to feel. He was more afraid of snapping Kadar in half than his own child.

"And sometimes," the boy whispered into his neck, "I get my meals taken away because I'm caught staring at the master's wife. Have you seen her? She is fat. She looks so…"

His smirk came back: this boy wasn't completely hopeless yet.

"…good. I want to bite her. She makes me hungry."

He hugged him tightly, careful of the child on his chest.

"But it's shameful, because humans shouldn't be hungry for someone else's wife. Are you a merman? Truly?"

He nodded, and his child whimpered between their bodies. Kadar sat in hushed awe for a moment.

"Will you take me to the sea?"

He nodded again.

"Will you buy me a fish?"

He pushed Kadar back gently and grabbed his chin. I'll do so much better than that, he hoped he said, and Kadar's eyes grew wide, and he could see the start of a smile at the corner of his lips, and he knew that pull had been right. The boy would become a merman again. The child at his chest whimpered again, and Kadar took him gently. He watched as he stood up and calmed the baby, who gurgled and babbled. That was more than he had ever heard his child speak. He stood, looking as his baby, who shrieked at him gleefully. He should try to get Kadar pregnant. He would be excellent, and the child would, no doubt, be a great addition to the small number of merfolk.

It was then he realized that Kadar had the stitches from his earlier wound finished. Malik must have done that. He must have withheld the information he would heal faster with a saltwater bath, but that would mean transformation, and Malik seemed intent on making him forget. He sat back near his younger brother as Kadar cooed and played with his child.