Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waves soundly splashed in the blue of the sea, occasionally hesitantly caressing warm sand. Bright south-european sun was generously giving its light. Cries of seagulls were being interrupted by sounds of boats being shown onto the shore and stakes being rammed, soft rustle coalescing in some kind of harmony, which was accompanied by dozens of voices. Fishermen and ordinary onlookers were swarming around decrepit old port buildings and in contrastingly good-state boats, with tired or idle looks staring at kilograms of caught fish. Although, some of the people were unlike the rest of the crowd — there were purpose and less chaos to their movements.

— Oi! Signore Gattuso, Signore Gattuso! — one of the fishermen called out to a young man with long golden hair, who was scrutinising the catches. — Our ones are fresh, and were caught just today! Look, it’s still wriggling around! 

“Signore Gattuso” nodded with a soft smile and started looking at the offered catch. The product was indeed fresh, wet scales of fish reflected the sunlight.

— It is a pleasure to work with you, as always. I will send our buyers soon.

— Even bigger pleasure to us! — the fisher laughed out contentedly. —  Signore Gattuso, huh, Signore Gattuso, tell me, why do noble-blooded sons of the Gattuso family go out of their way to choose the fish themselves instead of hiring somebody?

— By saying those words you show me that you do not know the Gattuso family, my friend, — the man smiled patronisingly, his voice full of pride. — For each bearer of the family name, it is a privilege to exhibit our mastery, whether it is picking fish or gutting it.

The man was about to return to the villetta when he was stopped by a voice of another fisherman.

— Signore Gattuso! We saw a mermaid in the sea tonight! Like this: upper half — like human’s, and then — laaaarge tail!

The man shivered slightly but quickly came back to his senses, and glanced at the speaker with a slightly disgruntled look.

— Mermaids do not exist.

With this, he went away.

***

The golden-haired young man walked into one of many rooms of a multi-storey building and approached a writing desk. Another man was sitting at that desk, who looked like himself, but seemingly more in every sense: older, taller, with hair of a richer golden hue, straighter back and a more proud look to him. He raised his head and glanced at the one that came. 

— Ah, Caesar, — he softly smiled in a fatherly way. — It is marvellous today. How is the fish?

— Good morning, father, — Caesar lowered his head reverentially. — I have picked the product and sent the buyers already. Parsi and others are still outside.

— Very well, very well, — his father laughed heartily. — Good job, I have no more tasks for you today.

Caesar nodded slowly and left the room.

The Gattuso family was the largest fishmongery empire in that place. Its members knew how to pick and prepare for sale any sort of local seafood, the family was nourishing the most talented salesmen and experts of fish. With that, they have built not only their fortune, but, more importantly, — their endless exaltation and pride. All of these gave them the rank of local aristocracy and even some strong long-distance and foreign connections. But, despite that, and some amount of hired workers, though, in only second-importance works, their calling card was that all members of the family took a great pride in handling most of the family business with their own hands, by themselves picking the fish, gutting it and sometimes personally serving it at guest and foreign tables.

The villetta of the Gattuso family was on a wide strip of land jutting out into the sea. Rooms on the left wing of the first floor were used for daily and sometimes social activities, in the right wing and in the basement the fish was gutted and prepared for sale, and the second floor was full of bedrooms. The right wing of that floor were mostly guest rooms — except for the room at the very end of the building — it belonged to Caesar. 

That part of the building was at the seaside; the strip of land had a cliff on one side and a way down to the beach on the other. Locals weren’t interested in that place much: it was unspokenly recognised as a part of the private property of the Gattuso family, and sailors were wary of it due to the numerous rocky ledges in the water. At nights, Caesar often went to the small balcony and enjoyed the view as well as the sea-saturated air.

He sometimes wondered if because of the placement of the room he was the only one who at nights heard him , or he was actually singing just for him.

***

The familiar singing lured him outside, away from the villetta. Caesar sighed and approached the way down to the sea, relying on the faint moonlight.

On one of the flatter stone ledges, his back to Caesar, a young man was sitting, his legs were under the water, he was singing something with an impossibly angelic voice. If someone met him, they could’ve thought of him as an, besides the singing, normal young person — he had an ordinary, frail build and messy, slightly wet from swimming, auburn hair. But then he partially turned to Caesar and the moonlight showed that underwater he had not legs, but a long fish-like tail, covered in scales, which also were all over his shoulders and back, becoming rare closer to the neck, and his fingers were ending in sharp claws and had membranes between them.

The person with an almost childish delight in his bronze eyes looked at him. Caesar, however, was calm, gloomy even; despite that, he phlegmatically, without a shade of hesitance approached, carefully closing distance between them, using the stony ledges as a path.

— Hello, Mingfei, — Caesar dryly greeted the merman.

This name was always weird and foreign to Caesar. The first couple of encounters he used to call him Lu, thinking that since that part comes first, it must’ve been a way to refer to him, but then Mingfei corrected him, saying that the order of names is actually different.

Merman made a sloppy gesture, straightening the arm upwards and spreading clawed fingers — a greeting movement that Caesar taught him at their first encounter.

— The sea is quiet today, — Lu Mingfei’s voice was soft, almost ephemeral, but he sounded human enough. – What about the ground?

— I have told you already. The ground is quite static. So nothing unusual, — said Caesar.

Both fell silent for some time, then Lu Mingfei, narrowing his gaze, glanced at Caesar’s blue eyes. 

— You’re tense today.

Of course he would sense that.

— It is not true, — Caesar just shrugged it off.

The night has continued as always. The merman was asking thousands of questions — about the ground world, about Caesar, about humans, about mountains, about Caesar again — just like any amount of answers were not enough to satiate him. Their voices were accompanied by rare splashes of fish and soft sounds of small waves against rocks.

Caesar was staring at somewhere far away. Lu Mingfei couldn’t tear his gaze off Caesar. He then leaned back of his head and started singing. That voice… Caesar still hasn’t quite understood what exactly that half-human was, despite the amount of their meetings. But one thing was true — these creatures sing beautifully. The song in an unknown language was wavering and splashing, like the waves around them, and was going smoothly, like a fish or a ship in the sea. Caesar was shrinking, stretching his neck tensely, but was allowing the sound to pour into his ears, not wanting to listen to silence. But with time it was becoming more unbearable.

Eventually Caesar snapped and moved his lips to the face of another man, hoping just for a second to force that voice — that insufferable, terrifying, soft, gorgeous, perfectly magnificent voice — to shut up. He faintly felt how the sharp claws pierced into his shoulders, and held him in return, perhaps handling the scales too roughly. Mingfei, in return, moved his lips gingerly, with curiosity and awe, as if trying to taste the ground word through its dweller.

After a couple of seconds, Caesar moved away, meeting the same delight in Mingfei’s eyes.

— You’re hindering my singing again, — Mingfei grumbled, trying in vain to sound annoyed.

— You are aware that it is difficult for me to listen to it for long, — Caesar replied.

Mingfei pouted and fell silent. Waves were playing with the moonlight’s reflection on the water, and the sea was rippling slightly. Caesar was staring at the horizon, deep in thought. All of a sudden, something wet touched his shoulder.

He pensively glanced at the man’s head on his shoulder and tenderly ran his hand through his hair.

Chapter Text

He remembered that during their first encounter, when Caesar asked him how he knew human language, Mingfei replied: “Merkin lived alongside humans throughout the ages. Many preyed on them, using various methods. Knowing your language, however you look at it, was useful, don’t you think?”. Then he became embarrassed and quickly added: “B-but I don’t do anything like that! Hunting people, I mean”. Afterwards Caesar had thought of it for a long time. He might not be devouring his body, but he was still devouring his soul!

No, it couldn’t be continued that way. He is a promising heir to the Gattuso family, damn it! He, and to so much depend on a bond with a half-fish? These feelings were alien, obscure to him. They were aflame in his soul, one second — warming his indifference, and another — burning him from within… No, something was wrong with it.

Was it really, though? Caesar had thought about this countless times. Maybe he should have accepted them long ago… But Caesar couldn’t accept such emotions, moreso when they were crushing him so much. He felt as if his entire being was being broken, dissolved into them. But he could not think about it any more. Enough for today. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

***

After an unremarkable morning Caesar headed back to his room and reached for his work clothing. He put it on quickly and took a glance at himself in the mirror. In the reflection he saw the son of the Gattuso family in the usual clothes — prideful, laid-back and stubborn, — in other words, himself… Was it himself, though?

He descended to the basement. He was engulfed by the scent of fishy crud. Around him were many tables and even more knives and other cutting implements. Several people — members of the family and few hired workers — were rushing around the place. Caesar approached a rack and picked up one of the knives.

Familiar movements. Familiar implements. Familiar sounds of a knife, scaling and cutting up sea carcasses. The routine was calming.

Caesar held the implement and, with strong movements, started working on fish. One action after another. It all starts with scaling, then — gutting, then — fins and gills, cleaning the knife, cutting off the head… That’s better. 

Was there a point in telling everything to the family and asking for advice? For that matter, would they believe him? No, he would deal with this by himself. Any Gattuso treasures the connection to the family name, but is able to handle everything by themselves.

For a moment, a strange, horrifying thought visited him… Caesar shrugged it off and held the knife handle tighter. No, his family name also didn’t allow him to betray one who, at least, trusted him wholeheartedly. He thought of those lively bronze eyes, of that delightful smile, of those countless questions… No, of course, he wouldn’t do something like that — told him his honour, or perhaps something else.

So passed day by day. Caesar was distracting himself with matters of the family, on evenings idly standing outside of the villetta, watching some of the members of the family going in hurry to the local market with prepared fish. They were rushing to sell it before the night. In the hours of darkness the market was taken over suspicious shops, turning into something alien, eerie even.

But Caesar was always waiting for the night. With dread, with resignation, perhaps with some anticipation. Although, he wouldn't allow himself to admit it.

***

Alien, seemingly incompatible sounds formed occasionally hissed syllables, which were creating the beautiful and logical flow of the song. In these moments, Caesar sometimes felt that he could understand it, just not being able to describe nor explain it to his own mind. He tolerated the oppressive feeling, not interrupting this time. When Mingfei finished singing, Caesar stared at him intensely.

— This time, give an answer to my question. Why have you started calling me ?

— You responded to the call, — Mingfei lifted his head and slid a look on his face.

A brief silence fell.

— …Let me go, — Caesar’s voice, unexpectedly for himself, came out quiet and hoarse.

Lu Mingfei gave him a soft smile, under the bright moon his eyes shone with molten bronze. The light was reflecting off his scales and claws.

— Why, though? You’ve ve been reaching for the call by your own will from the start. And I want to keep calling you. It's been lonely ever since my brothers have disappeared.

Caesar lowered his head and said nothing.

***

Stars were sparkling and exchanging glances with the full moon, a soft wind was stirring the grass. There was calm in the air — the kind that usually sets before a storm. 

On his way back Caesar pondered. Yes, he finally made the choice. He’ll fix everything. Everything will be right. 

Preparing fish isn’t all that hard. It all starts with scaling, then — gutting, then — fins and gills, cleaning the knife, cutting off the head…