Blade stood on the deck, his eyes glimmering with curiosity as his ship creaked and swayed with the waves of the restless sea. You found yourself tangled in a fishing net, the salty air burning against your skin. The pirate maintained his detached and frigid manner, seemingly unfazed by your predicament.

"Stop struggling," Blade commanded, his voice cutting through the salty breeze. He tightened his hold on your chin, as though to remind you of his authority over you.

"Perhaps I will keep you," he muttered to himself. His calloused hand traced the intricate patterns of your mermaid scales in a way that seemed both careful and invasive.