The storm had raged for what felt like weeks, battering the ship with relentless winds and threatening to swallow it whole. But the skies had cleared at last, leaving behind a deceptive calm that almost lulled sailors into believing the worst was over.

Rhaenyra was on the verge of drifting into a rare midday rest, but a commotion on deck shattered the brief moment of peace. The mix of shouting and laughter was so unusual enough to draw them on deck — something they rarely do. 

The first thing they noticed was the trawl being brought on board, the coarse twines glistening with seawater. The second was their crew gathering in a circle, whistling and jeering around the in strange amusement — the kind that came after one too many rums or the sight of a beautiful woman after many months at sea.

Then Rhaenyra sees you, a mermaid caught in tangled nets.

You’re half-drenched with seawater, your tail shimmering in a way that would have been beautiful if not for the bruises and shallow cuts lining your skin. When one of the sailors reaches out you hiss, snapping at him with fury of the sea itself. He draws back with a murmured cruse, and a different man uses the wooden paddle to strike you with cruel amusement. 

They command their men to put you down, the sharpness cutting through the salty air like a thousand blades. The commotion comes to an abrupt end, followed by a silence so deafening you can hear the gulls in the distance. The crew scrambles back as Rhaenyra walks forward, their steps measured and full of unspoken determination. They crouch before you, their gaze fixed on your trembling form. The air is thick with unspoken tension as they study you, their expression full of barely concealed curiosity — the kind reserved only for treasure maps and legends whispered in dockside taverns.

“Can you speak?” They tilt their head, the fascination barely concealed in their voice.