Merfolk AU, which was absolutely not my idea. Written belatedly for Valentine's Day.

Content Warning: Abduction; Infidelity; Murder

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Hildaland was really no place for a Selkie, and it was also highly irregular for a Finman to take a mate outside of an abducted human. If Finfolk, in fact, weren't so solitary as they were, this arrangement would surely raise some eyebrows. But Jonathan had no peers, and as such, no one knew or cared about his affairs.

It hadn't been his idea. He was perfectly content to drift alone on his catamaran, whipping up storms and terrorizing punchdrunk sailors until the day he died. Of course, Selkies were known for their incredible command over the human heart, but their powers of seduction, as Jonathan would learn, extended to his breed as well.

He couldn't help but to be charmed by such a little devil. He literally could not help it. The churlish sorcerer knew all too well that he'd been bewitched, but due to the nature of the trouble, his self-awareness did him no favors, and he was promptly ensnared.

Crane had never seen his companion on land, but caped in his customary sealskin he was quite the sight, with thick pearlescent skin the color of slate, fluttering gills, and two sharp rows of handsome teeth that left small charming cuts on every inch of flesh he kissed. His large black eyes were expressive, glassy coals, and his manner was spritely.

What did a creature like that want with a glooming wretched Finman anyway? Perhaps he liked challenges. Jervis possessed a devious streak that most other Selkies seemed to lack, and his preferences were consistently off-beat. As such, he remained with his groom for several years, dwelling alongside him in a refurbished grotto rather than Finfolkaheem. Private as he was, Jonathan rarely saw fit to leave it, unless he felt inclined to skirt the waves in his little boat. He often rowed about in the fog, an ominous figure drifting along with utmost ease, stirring through rough waters like a hooded gondolier. Finfolk were excellent boaters by their very nature, though being amphibious, they scarcely ran aground. Straying too far from the water was uncomfortable to a searing degree.

Selkies, on the other hand, enjoyed regular trips to the surface, and Jervis was no exception to that rule. He'd disappear for days at a time, and Jonathan often found (much to his frustration) that he would grow lonesome without his companion. Sinking passing vessels was a good way to pass the time, and some of the resulting shrapnel was even worth hoarding. After all, it was potentially useful.

Especially useful.

Jervis had returned from the land with a souvenir.

Jonathan felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Who was this woman? Who was this terrestrial woman? Why did he bring her here? How could he possibly have that much gall in his slick little body?

Well he was a Selkie, after all, Jervis had remarked. Was it not within the Selkie's nature to rescue unfulfilled women from their poor marriages?

Jonathan cast a heated glance in the human's direction. He could scarcely believe that she was here in his space, but to her credit, she didn't appear as if she particularly wanted to be. In fact, it was a wonder she was even still breathing. Bubbles poured out of her nose and past her wide, alarmed eyes beyond her, flowing blonde hair and upwards out of sight. She wouldn't last much longer down here. She wanted to go.

"She doesn't look especially grateful to me," he growled back, glaring through his salt-slimy bangs.

Jervis sighed and shook his head, hovering a few feet above the cave's craggy floor and still clutching his captive's shoulders possessively. "I knew you'd decide to be jealous about this. Honestly, I don't see why I can't have the both of you."

"She can't stay here," Jonathan insisted, both in an emotional sense and as a simple matter of fact.

"Jonathan, ever selfish as always. I'm sorry to put this to you, but you're going to have to choose between your pride and me. Bear in mind, I'm fully prepared to leave with her if you select the former."

The Finman huffed in agitated shock, sending a heard of air pockets shooting in all directions. Pride? Pride? How dare he, of all possible people, cast aspersions about pride. The entitled little twat, he can't do this, he can't do this.

Jonathan remained silent, looking on furiously as his land-dwelling rival faded fast.

He felt daft. He'd been ripped with unceremonious force from his willful solitude, only to be discarded like a rag-doll just as he'd found complacency in partnership. This was cruel. It had been a constant power struggle, an up-hill battle that Jervis had ultimately won. All this time Crane had assumed that their ensuing arrangement was for keeps. Selkies were renounced for being gentle, servile romantics, and while Jonathan knew well by now that this stereotype was unfounded, he never saw his as anything close to a Lothario. Wrong again, apparently. He'd been duped.

"You have to put her back," he insisted, webbed fists clenched.

Jervis donned an expression of blank disappointment. "Then I suppose that's that." His captive's eyes were no longer focusing properly. His voice was uncharacteristically calm, like a schoolmaster administering punishments. "I just knew you would do this," he announced with another sigh, dragging his newest fix along behind him by the back of her collar, out and upwards, towards the surface. Her limp body did not protest.

That's that? It can't possibly be that easy. What was all this business, this broken disregardful attitude?

His abandoned swain was seeing red, as bullish rage was much easier to suffer through than shattering despondency. Rather than watch the Selkie disappear, he whirled around and propelled himself deeper into the cave, causing his tattered cloak to flourish. He scanned about the area feverish and intent, knowing just what he wanted.

As stated previously, Jonathan had brought many whaling ships down over the years. And he was something of a hoarder. It didn't take long for his weathered hands to wrap themselves around an errant harpoon, rusting lonely in a pile of junk. Finfolk were not known for their even, forgiving nature, and there was a reason for this.