Archive of Our Own

Sungjin had known since he was little that life wasn’t easy. Life wasn’t easy trying to scrounge on the streets, or helping his mother when she got a job cleaning houses, or listening to her stories about his sailor father who had died at sea.

(He wondered, when he got older, if his father had really died at sea. Just sometimes. But the one time he’d asked his mother, she’d looked heartbroken.

“Your father loved us very much, Jin-Jin.” She said softly, “If there was any way he could’ve made it back to us, he would have. I promise.”

Sungjin couldn’t do anything else but believe her.)

He hadn’t realized life could be numb.

Then his mother fell sick.

The funeral hadn’t been much. A rowboat, a priest, a few of her friends to help him send her off below to join his father. He’d been too numb to feel anything. For days. For weeks.

He’d run off to a different town the moment the sickness started to spread.

Star’s Port was. Rough. Drab. Familiar. Pirate infested, apparently, but Sungjin couldn’t care.

The shack was a fair ways down the beach, but it wasn’t claimed when Sungjin asked around in town. A few coins at the local courthouse and it was his.

It wasn’t worth much more than that, if he was honest. All splintered wood and leaking roof, but it was better than sleeping on the beach.

It wasn’t hard to find work at the docks. Especially since he had previous experience.

(Since he heard Jae’s voice every time he swung, just a little to the side, there you go. Three taps, Sung, deep breath, another nail.

Saw Jae’s eyes as he struggled to breath, the beam having smashed his leg to pieces. 

He was one of the first to go, when the sickness spread, not long after Sungjin’s own mother died.

He’d been too numb to realize.)

He met a kid at the docks. Seventeen to Sungjin’s twenty. Naive in the way someone newly on their own was, in the way someone who hadn’t been cheated out of wages was.

Of course, Sungjin got stuck teaching him. 

It took two weeks before he didn’t mind Brian so much any more.

Another three for him to find out that Brian wasn’t actually on his own – he lived with an aunt and uncle who had taken him in after his parents went missing at sea.

Something in Sungjin’s heart cracked, just a bit.

Especially when Brian showed up to work with at least two bruised ribs that he tried to hide.

Sungjin started fixing up the shack.

The roof, first. Leaks stopped up, repaired, planks and shingles slowly replaced when he could acquire them. Then the floors – warped board taken out, splintered wood sanded down until it was smooth, until it would allow for bare feet to remain unhurt padding against it. Then each of the walls – the seaward wall reinforced against the cold wind. He cleared out the chimney, knowing that there would never be much to burn, but they’d need it during the winter anyways. 

Because Sungjin knew. 

He knew Brian didn’t have another safe place. Work wasn’t safe, not at all. Not with the bosses they had. Not his… where he lived. He couldn’t think of it as Brian’s home in his head, not after how he’d seen how he flinched when Sungjin moved too fast, how he moved too gingerly or didn’t bring any lunch some days.

How some part of him was tensely waiting for Brian’s eighteenth birthday.

He’d started on the porch – sanding down railings, planks. Fixing the loose stair. Maybe he didn’t have to do it so quickly, but something in him demanded that he finish it before Brian’s birthday, before… well. He didn’t know what. It was just a gut feeling.

One that turned out to be correct, when Brian showed up at work with a stuffed knapsack. Tears in his eyes. A limp.

When Sungjin brought him home, it was to a worn horse blanket and a tiny fire, smooth wooden floors that Brian slid across his old socks in. They curled together at night to keep warm, the horse blanket beneath them. Brian traced all too sleepy patterns against the stitching.
“...’s is the soft’st thing ‘ve ever slept on. N’ the b’st b’thday ever.” He yawned quietly, like it didn’t break Sungjin’s heart, cracks spreading across the surface.

He vowed to buy a better blanket the next time they got paid.

Brian slept. Slept through the night, the day, until Sungjin got back from the double shift he’d taken and he was oh so furious at the action. 

He was less furious when he understood how hard it was to keep them both afloat. Sungjin could skip a meal or two, there. Could make do with the old horse blanket and a small fire, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – do the same to Brian. But both wages combined – even as Sungjin began taking double shifts consistently – was barely enough. Barely. Enough to regularly pay for food, and some firewood, and a few coins to set aside if someone got hurt or sick. Not many, and not always. But sometimes they could.

Brian didn’t think he had ever understood family until Sungjin took him in. 

Well. Really, until Sungjin started teaching him at work.

He hadn’t quite understood what he was doing, just determined to make sure his uncle couldn’t call him a slacker and a drain and every other insult he’d ever called him after they’d taken him in. Sungjin had gotten stuck teaching him, and he’d huffed and puffed a little before agreeing.

Brian had never been so glad. He’d learned, he’d been supported, he’d been fed, sometimes, when his aunt decided that there wasn’t enough food for him to take.

And then he’d been kicked out the morning of his eighteenth birthday, and Sungjin had to have known, just with one look, because he took him home after work, and the blanket might have been worn, but it was the softest thing Brian had felt in a long time.

And he’d been home. Really, truly been home. Been found.

Brian was the one who found Dowoon. Too wound up after they’d done the latest math, after Sungjin had slipped him the last bit of food they had and he hadn’t realized it. He’d been sitting on the beach, contemplating whether he had the energy to scream at the waves or not. 

And then the dingy had run up on shore, Dowoon tumbling out and falling into the waves, and Brian… Brian couldn’t just leave him there.

Couldn’t leave him even after Sungjin found the pirate’s medallion and panicked, burying it much further down on the beach so it couldn’t be found. After Dowoon woke up, terrified, crying, in pain.

Sungjin hadn’t been able to stop his heart from cracking further.

Dowoon couldn’t work like he and Brian could – too well known, too many chances for someone to recognize him. He did his best to fish at night, instead. Some of it they salted and saved for themselves, but most of it they sold.

Dowoon… hadn’t planned on Star’s Point.

Hadn’t actually really planned on beaching at all.

Hadn’t been able to think that far after he escaped the ship, his mutinous crewmates going crazy, the captain long gone. 

He was pretty sure he’d been delirious with thirst when Brian had found him and brought him back to Sungjin.

Sungjin, who had looked exhausted and worried, but had let Dowoon stay anyway. Who snuck him his own food and helped nurse him back to health and helped fix up the rowboat so that he could fish when Dowoon was determined to help in some way .

Who buried his medallion instead of selling it so that Dowoon wouldn’t be found out. Even though it would have solved so many of their problems to sell it.

So Dowoon did what he could, and fished, and salted, and stayed in the shack during the day and cooked when he could, and cleaned and tidied and fixed and sanded stray boards and the chest and cabinets. Rehung the squeaky door to the tiny lean to. Searched for driftwood to fill it so they could have a fire at night.

And then, in the nights, he fished.

Fishing was how they met Wonpil.

Dowoon had come home, shaking and terrified about how he had accidentally caught a seal – only he was sure it was a selkie, not a seal, and he’d cut it and the net free in horror, but also had lost their catch–

Sungjin had reassured him that it was okay, that they would live for one night. Slipped Dowoon his own portion when the young pirate wasn’t looking. Went to the docks.

He sat on the pier when they broke for lunch, legs dangling above the ocean. A quiet bark caught his attention, and he grinned down at the seal below him.

“Hullo, little one.” He said softly, throwing it a bit of his food. The seal caught it, diving below and back again. Sungjin chuckled softly.
“Did my youngest catch you last night? Haven’t seen many seals around here.” He said softly. The seal barked, spinning around.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not too bad off then.” Sungjin took another bite of his lunch, feeling a cough bubble up in his throat. He chased it away with a shake of his head and a sip of water, then got back to work. 

Wonpil liked humans. Had to be careful, sure. He didn’t want any of them to get his coat. But humans were funny, and loud, and cross and crass and kind. They danced and fought and made music and laughed, and he… well, his father’s warnings were too loud in his mind for him to dare join them, but he wanted to, sometimes. 

He liked the human with long hair who worked at the docks. He gave him some of his food, sometimes, and always spoke kindly. He sometimes got annoyed with the tiny human he worked with, but he always showed him what he did wrong, and didn’t yell too much. And then he and the tiny human started coming and leaving together, which was good. They both started working at the docks for much longer than they had been before.

He didn't like it. They both looked exhausted, and made more mistakes, and got yelled at.

He got caught by a night, one night. Wonpil hadn’t been paying attention, had just been swimming, and bam! Net. Only the human – even tinier than his tiny human – had panicked, and cut him free.

It made sense when the long haired human called him his youngest. A child, then, or baby brother. Clearly he’d taught him well.

And then the long haired human didn’t appear at the docks, just the tiny one. And then it happened for a second day, then a third.

Really, when asked later, Wonpil could say with exact certainty that the third day was the day when everything had changed.

Because work stopped for the day, and the tiny human collapsed by the docks.
Well, maybe collapsed was too dramatic a word – he fell, slowly, like he couldn’t quite stop himself from sitting down, and Wonpil.

Well. His father’s warnings still ran clear through his mind, but he’d gotten attached. So he’d shifted, further down the beach. Changed into the old clothes he’d always told himself he’d hoarded just in case. Hid his coat underneath the shirt. Made it back to his tiny human.

A somewhat delirious tiny human, who called him Sungjin, and directed him to where they lived.

Wonpil had seen the little shack on the beach, of course he had, but he didn’t think anyone lived there. It was too old, too small, too run down for that.

He was quickly proven wrong when the youngest tiny human opened up the door. 

“Brian!” He shouted, eyes wide, exhausted, terrified. The long haired human was wheezing on the floor behind him, curled near a fireplace, face flushed and red.

“I don’t– I don’t know how to help them–” The youngest said, voice breaking, and Wonpil knew. He knew the long haired human needed the sea, needed the healing it brought. He placed the -tiny- Brian down next to the fireplace and took the long haired human, even as the youngest blustered and flustered, unsure of what to do.

The human was light enough that it was easy to swim him out a ways, even in his human form. It was easy to float with the waves, let the water soak, cool, heal.

(He never figured out that it wasn’t the same. That Sungjin couldn’t heal from the waves the way a selkie could. That what truly happened was that the water cooled the fever, broke it. Stopped Sungjin from being burned alive from the inside out, overworked and exhausted, stressed and protective.

It wasn’t the same.

But it was enough.)

Sungjin wasn’t there when Wonpil decided to stay. When he and Brian buried his coat, deep beneath the floorboards, so that it couldn’t be found, couldn’t be used against him. But he saw the change in the set of the selkie’s shoulders when he returned, and that was enough.

The pirates had been unexpected in a very expected way. 

Sungjin and Brian had been working when they arrived, loud and boisterous and flashy. Wild as the wind at sea, but not so destructive as their moniker would suggest. One of them had flipped Brian a few coins when he’d given them directions.

The crew of the Carat, Sungjin soon discovered, were unlike any other pirates he knew.

They were loud, sure, but a group of thirteen men — boys, some of them — were bound to be loud. They spoke a bit crassly — but that was par for the course with pirates. 

And otherwise… they didn’t rampage, didn’t plunder. Paid for their goods and food.

Sungjin kinda liked them.

Their captain knew what he was doing, too, when he came to the docks to get the Carat looked at for repairs. He wasn’t just someone who ordered but didn’t know how his ship worked.

Seungcheol was good. He knew.

Of course, when Sungjin found him at the shack after a long day of work, he thought he might have to retract all of that. He wasn’t about to let a pirate get to his kids — not Wonpil’s coat, not if he had an old grudge against Dowoon, he didn’t know but he couldn’t trust—

But Dowoon was relaxed. No signals of distress, and Wonpil seemed nervous, but it was “new person” nervous, not “life in danger” nervous.

Then Sungjin noticed the kid in the tub they used to bathe, shining scales glimmering, and a few things made sense in the world again. 

“Thank you. Not many wouldn’t sell us out.” Seungcheol said lowly, watching Seungkwan talk about life in the sea with Wonpil, giggling as Dowoon told possibly exaggerated tales of storms and exchanged groans about pirating life.

“Tit-for-tat. I would hope no one would sell out my kids either.”

Seungcheol didn’t know what to think of the dock worker at first. Mostly because he wasn’t sure why he’d stuck out to him. At first glance there wasn’t much that stood out – long hair pulled back into a short, low ponytail, worn but thick clothing, gloves.

Then he had watched as another man had come over to the dock worker, saying something, only for the first man to grab his hands, tone scolding as he pulled off his gloves and forced them onto the other man’s hands.

And Seungcheol was… intrigued.

He sent his youngest three to watch the two and report back to him, to stay hidden. Dino had returned a few hours later with the first update – how the two were clearly close, the older had snuck most of his portion to the younger, and they’d left the docks together after working two shifts.

Then Vernon had come rushing back, saying Seungkwan was missing, they’d been following the two near the docks and he’d slipped into the sea-

And Seungcheol felt only ice, because Seungkwan was young, for a mer, couldn’t always control transforming, especially when it really was the sea he was in, and –

They spent hours searching before they came across the shack on the beach. Heard Seungkwan giggling, and burst inside only to find two men who were clearly sea-touched. His own kid was in a small tub, not quite big enough to fit him in, but clearly the best they had based off of the rest of the place. 

Then the two men from the docks came in, and Seungcheol’s world shifted a little more.

Vernon was the one who wanted to slip them a reward, to thank them, to help them. Seungkwan agreed, quietly telling Seungcheol how they’d offered him food, even after he saw how little they had. 

Seungcheol may have slipped a few gems into the coin bags his kids made up to hide around the shack.

And if he saw Jeonghan do the same, well. He wasn’t gonna say anything.

Hearing Vernon’s account of how the four had panicked when they’d awoken and found coins and gems everywhere almost made him regret it.

But getting scolded by Sungjin the next time they sailed into Star’s Port made it all worth it.

Life went back to normal for a while. Brian and Sungjin worked at the docks. Wonpil and Dowoon fished at night. They used the coins and gems that they were still finding from where the Carat’s crew had hidden them when it just wasn’t quite enough to get by.

And then, in a facsimile of meeting Dowoon, Brain brought home another kid.

This one was a mer, not a human. One who’d been beached, somehow, terrified and alone, scales black and red and gleaming, reminding Sungjin of blood. There was no blood, thankfully, just tears. 

And a very angry Wonpil.

“So you just grabbed him?” He asked Brian, seething.
“I panicked! I didn’t know what else to do, and people were coming up the beach!” He explained, running a hand through his hair and pacing in front of the small tub. Wonpil huffed, clearly still not happy, and knelt next to the tub, conversing with the young mer with sounds Sungjin sometimes heard him use late at night. The mer chirped back quietly, a little panicked, and Wonpil nodded. He quietly stroked the mer’s long tail until it split, cracking in half, one appendage becoming two as Dowoon yelled in shock. It set them all off laughing, even the young mer. 

Once the mer was dry and sitting on the floor, he explained what had happened.

“My name is Bambam. I’m a mer – Born, but you knew that already.” He said, looking at Wonpil, who nodded.
“...you can be a… not born mer?” Sungjin asked, confused. Bambam giggled.

“There’s Born mer and Turned mer. Born mer can go from human to mer forms, but Turned can’t. They were already human before, and now they can’t go back. My…” Bambam frowned, then turned to Wonpil, letting out a sound that sounded somewhat like a whale song.

Wonpil made a face.

“The closest human approximation would be ‘little brother from a different family’.” He said slowly, “humans don't have the same relationship words.”

Bambam made a similar face – clearly the phrase wasn’t adequate – but continued on. 

“My little brother is a Turned. Him and his whole pod, which is pretty rare. One or two Turned isn’t unheard of, but a pod of eight Turned… sorry, I’m getting off track. Thank you for the rescue.” He nodded at Brian.

“There was a shark – a particularly aggressive one, normally they don’t go after mer. Anyways, I accidentally beached myself running from it, and I’ve never transformed before, so I panicked.”

Brian nodded slowly, picking dirt out from one of his nails.

“It’s probably too late to do anything now. We’ll have to wait until night to get your back to the ocean.”
“That’s alright.” Bambam shrugged, “Jay B will understand.”
Dowoon tilted his head.
“Jay B? Who’s that?”
“Oh, he's my…” Bambam huffed.

“Humans need better words. Big brother and pod leader. Kinda like…”

Bambam motioned to Sungjin.

Dowoon nodded.

It was a different kind of anxiety, knowing they had Bambam hidden in the shack while they worked at the docks. Sungjin felt unfocused, scattered. When they paused to eat, Brian confessed to feeling the same.

“He feels… he feels like my kid. In a different way than Wonpil and Dowoon feel.” Brian said softly. Sungjin nodded, slipping Brian half his piece of bread.

“They’ll be fine.”

Sure enough, by the time they made it back to the shack, not only had all three of the kids fallen asleep, they were snuggled together, snoring softly.

And a man was watching them, tall and dark-haired, a curved knife on his hip.

Another mer. A powerful one, if Sungjin’s instincts said anything.

“Jay B,” was what he  introduced himself, nodding his head. Brian sucked in a breath, face odd.

“You’re Bambam’s pod leader.”

Jay B blinked at him.

“... he imprinted on you.”
“What?!” Brian and Sungjin choked out for entirely different reasons. Bambam stirred, blinking at the three of them.
“Jay B!” He called sleepily. Jay B chirped softly at him, and Bambam chirped back, closing his eyes again. 

Jay B eyed the older two, using his head to motion outside.
“We should talk.”

The following conversation ended in an agreement for Bambam to visit once a month – “To keep the imprinting instincts in check,” Jay B explained – and Brian and Sungjin learning more about how mer imprinting worked than they ever wanted to. At the very least, Bambam seemed happy when he and Jay B left with Dowoon and Wonpil that night. When they were out of sight, Sungjin looked to Brian, oddly serious.

“A teen parent. Really, Brian? I didn’t think I’d need to give you the talk–”
Brian shouted in disgust, hitting Sungjin on the arm as he cackled. 

And so the normal changed to Bambam, appearing once a month at the docks, a full pouch of coins in his satchel that he swore he didn’t have but would end up hidden around the shack before he left anyways. The first time he came, he brought a piece of jewelry for all of them, a small green gem inlaid in the charm.

“Please, wear them? It’s an instinct thing,” He’d said when three out of the four of them hesitated. Wonpil had accepted immediately, and snickered at the words, but didn’t contradict them. 

The next time the Carat docked, Jeonghan looked at Sungjin’s earring with particular interest.

“Something wrong?” Sungjin asked, and Jeonghan shook his head.
“Not at all. Just admiring the craftsmanship.” Jeonghan said with a hidden grin. 

Sungjin watched him for a long moment, then shrugged.

Jay B visited sometimes too, late at night. Warning of storms, angry seas. Just chatting with Sungjin and Brian, talking about his boys under the sea. Sungjin got the feeling that it was as much of a break for him as it was for them.

It was good. Occasionally unpredictable, and hard, as summer came and turned to fall, turned to winter. As storms came and the nights got cold again, everyone curled together in order to keep warm. 

It was a cold winter’s eve when they met Han.

Sungjin would love it if his kids stopped catching sentient ocean life when fishing. Especially when they came home with another young mer, younger than Bambam, entranced with Dowoon’s necklace and the gem on it.
“He’s Turned.” Wonpil explained softly. “I asked. He said he knew Bambam.”

The mer nodded, eyes catching on Sungjin’s earrings and Brian’s bracelet.

“Him and Chan are…” He huffed, “I don’t know the word. But Bambam’s the one who Claimed him.”

“...Claimed?” Brian asked, confused.
“Yeah, like–” The mer motioned to the jewelry Bambam had given them.

Three sets of eyes turned to Wonpil.

“Care to explain?” Sungjin asked.

As it turned out, they’d been Claimed as family – as pod – by Bambam.

Sungjin would’ve been miffed if it wasn’t so sweet. As it was, he just wanted to know why no one had explained it earlier.
“Cause it’s funny.” The mer – Han – shrugged, “It’s not a bad thing, but it’s a little funny that you didn’t know and still wore them.”

“I’d still like a word with him.” Sungjin grumbled, then jumped as the door flew open.

Wonwoo ran inside, shoulders relaxing immediately when he saw them.
“Oh thank goodness. Han, Chan’s looking for you, he’s terrified.”

Han winced.
“I didn’t mean to–”
“I know, kid.” Wonwoo grinned at Sungjin, “One of these days it’s not gonna be you picking up stray mer, and we’re all gonna be in big trouble.”
Sungjin shrugged.

“At least there wasn’t an imprint this time.”
“Wait, Bambam imprinted? That makes so much sense!” Han shouted, giggling the entire way down to the beach. A harried looking mer with a teal tail and several rings on his fingers was anxiously swimming there, as close to the sea as a mer could go without getting beached.

“Channie! Did you know Bambam imprinted?” Han called as soon as they were close. The teal mer – Chan – let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a sob.
“Yeah kid, I did.” He said, squeezing Han tight, Joshua keeping the two upright behind him. Chan looked to Sungjin, eyes wet.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…”
Sungjin smiled at him.
“It’s alright. He’s safe now, yeah? Don’t worry about what could’ve happened.”

“Still. Thank you. If you ever need–”
Chan was interrupted by a mer breaching the surface behind them.
“Did you find him?” He asked, golden scales bright against the moonlight.
“Jungkook! Did you know Bambam imprinted on a human?” Han asked, still giggling, and the golden mer’s tail splashed hard against the waves.
“I didn’t! How dare he not tell me.” Jungkook said, pouting, but grinning all the same.
“I’ll let the others know, Channie. We’ll call off the search.”
Han watched him go with wide eyes.

“You really called in everyone, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did.” Chan said softly, “You were missing.”

“Sorry,” Han said softly, “I just needed some space, I didn’t mean to go this far.”
“It’s alright. Just gotta be careful.”
“Not everyone is as kind as we are, kid. Your brother is right.” Sungjin added softly. Han nodded.
“Thank you.”

Sungjin smiled at them.
“You’re welcome. Get going now, the sun's nearly up. Who knows who’s gonna show up.”

Meeting Yoongi and Namjoon was an accident. Brian and Sungjin had been sent to a nearby town on a supply run. They stopped at a tavern to pick up lunch – or, would have, if it weren’t for the two men who’d gotten thrown out of the door right as they stopped outside. One was shorter, hair short and dingy white, while the other was tall and had purple hair. That was the one who looked up at them on the wagon seat with a grin, saying,

“I wouldn’t eat there if I were you. Fish is bad.”
“And it’s a slaver stop.” The white haired man grumbled, rolling his shoulder as he stood.

“That too.”
Sungjin nodded slowly.

“Good to know. I don’t suppose you know another place to get food, do you?”

The two shared a look.

“Sure do. I’m Namjoon, and this is my brother, Yoongi.”
Yoongi grumbled something under his breath, but grabbed onto the wagon seat, clambering up.

“You’re gonna want to go right–”

It was good food, Sungjin would admit that. Namjoon and Yoongi were good company, too, between Namjoon’s ramblings and Yoongi’s dry interjections. Sungjin politely pretended he didn’t notice the fangs, quietly wondering to himself if they were mer or selkies.

Only for it to be proven as they left the place, Sungjin and Brian needing to get back to Star’s Point, and someone yelled out “There’s mer in town!”

Yoongi swore, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and preparing to run, but Brian held up a hand.

“Hide with the supplies, no one will suspect you’re there.”

Namjoon looked at them, teeth bared, but Brian pulled up his sleeve, Bambam’s Claim bracelet shining dully on his wrist. Sungjin hadn’t worn his earrings for the trip, too worried about bandits on the road, but Brian could easily hide his underneath a sleeve.

Both mer let out a long breath, shared a look, and scrambled into the wagon. Sungjin pulled the canvas over them quickly, tying it down as a group of riders stormed past, feral looks in all of their eyes.

They got stopped several times on the way back to Star’s Point. Sungjin’s hands shook badly on the reins every time, but Brian was quick, spinning tales of being late on their way back and fearing their boss’s wrath. Every guard, hunter, and townsfolk who stopped them bought it, probably because it was true, but Sungjin had never been more happy to be home than when they came upon the border marker and stopped the wagon. Yoongi and Namjoon crawled out, Namjoon whacking his head or arm a few times as they did so.

Yoongi stared at the two for a long moment.
“...you’ve met mer before. That’s a Claim.” he said after a long moment. Sungjin nodded, and Brian grinned sheepishly.

“Bambam imprinted on me the first time we–”
“Bambam. Imprinted, you’re Brian,” Namjoon interrupted, eyes wide, “So you’re Sungjin. You’re the one who keeps finding and saving mer.”

Sungjin rubbed the back of his neck.
“Unintentionally, but yes.”
“You have a selkie in your pod.” Yoongi asked slowly. Sungjin nodded.
“His coat?” Yoongi challenged.
“Wonpil is the only one who’s touched it,” Brian reassured quickly, “It’s hidden, we all know where, but he’s the only one who’s touched it.”

Yoongi pursed his lips, but nodded.

“Good, then.”

“Our youngest has probably met you. Jungkook.” Namjoon said, and Sungjin remembered the golden, excited mer from when they had met Han and Chan.

“Yes, we have.” He said, “He seemed like a good kid.”

“He is.” Yoongi said. He glanced out towards the horizon, where the sun was setting.
“We’ve got to get going, we won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for your help.”

Sungjin nodded, starting the horses again as the two scrambled for the beach.

Their boss scolded, but Brian and Sungjin had expected that. 

They hadn’t expected the red necklace appearing on the steps of the shack a week later, or Wonpil’s halting explanation that it was a Claiming item from one of the most powerful kingdoms under the sea. But it wasn’t a bad thing, not at all.

And Sungjin found that life was good. That it was unexpected, and crazy, and sometimes a little magic. That Claims were real, and taken seriously. And there were too many people making a competition of sneaking coins into random places around the house, he did not need to find more coins in their flour, please–

But it was good. Cozy, with his brothers, even when the days were long and the nights cold.

And then it wasn’t.

Sungjin woke to the smell of smoke. Not breakfast in the fireplace, no. This was thicker, choking. He thrashed awake, grabbing Brian next to him – Wonpil and Dowoon, where were Wonpil and Dowoon – and charged outside, dragging Brian with him.

One of the town guards was kicking Wonpil.

One of the guards was holding Dowoon, head to the sand, and another was kicking Wonpil, and Sungjin roared, because that was his kid. His kid– 

The guard shouted, dropping with the force of the punch, and Wonpil scrambled away. The place was a mess of yelling and “Hyung-” and that was Dowoon and they had Brian and–

And then Sungjin was waking up, wrists chained by his sides. In one of those strange wagons they’d seen, the ones more like a cage on wheels than anything else. Brian was next to him, curled into him, sobbing like his life depended on it.
And then Sungjin realized that they were in the town square.

That that was a bonfire.

That that was Dowoon and Wonpil on there, his kids were on there, and he didn’t realize he was screaming until a staff hit against the bars of the cage, and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t even move as the torch came closer and closer and–

And never hit the hay, a cloaked man splashing the fire carrier with a water flask.

The crowd froze. Sungjin’s throat felt hoarse and wrong.

The ring of steel came from behind the crowd, and they parted quietly as a man in a tall, feathered hat came through, sword drawn, intimidation radiating off of him.

Seungcheol.

“I’d release them.” He said. Not shouting. No need for that. Barely more than the level of sound one would normally talk at, loud as if he’d screamed it from the rooftops with a trumpet. 

“Release a pirate and a harpy?” Someone said, and Sungjin recognized the mayor’s voice.

Should’ve known.

Seungcheol smirked.
“He’s a selkie, actually. Not that it matters.”

He raised a hand, and an arrow severed the ropes holding his kids to the burning post.

Sungjin sobbed. He knew someone was getting closer – heard Brian talking to them as his mind and body went numb, on autopilot. Followed them out, let them get the chains off of his wrists. Didn’t respond to their reassurances that Dowoon and Wonpil would be safe. Led them to the shack. Dug up Wonpil’s coat, breaking out of the numbness as he hesitated to touch it but they had to be quick, and he wouldn’t have time to come back for it, so he picked it up as gently as he could because it deserved respect, especially if it was the last he had of his kid, no matter what anyone else said, and he couldn’t– he couldn't breathe, couldn’t feel, couldn’t cry, could barely feel Brian’s hand, firm on his back, he cou–

Gunpowder, despite the fact that there was no pistol to be shot, the scent slamming into him like a tidal wave. The salt of the sea, every so slightly sweet, and Sungjin felt himself, breaking, collapsing, clutching Wonpil’s coat as he rocked back and forth and sobbed and clung to his kids because they were here they were safe and he couldn’t– he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t feel he couldn’t anything it was all too much and his kids were here and safe and they were here, they were here, they were here and his heart was a crumbled mess in his chest–

Seungcheol was on the deck when Sungjin awoke before the sun had had a chance to rise. 

“Thank you.” He said, voice hoarse and rough. Seungcheol handed him a water flask.

“It was going to happen sooner or later. If not to you, then to us.”
He huffed softly as scales glittered beneath the sea, Joshua and Jeonghan playing a convoluted game of tag with Vernon and Wonwoo. 

Sungjin’s hand tightened on the railings, a reaction all too reflexive after watching out for Wonpil all this time, after meeting Bambam, and Chan, and Han, and Jay B. All too used to forcing everyone to hide, to cover it all up, all too afraid of what could happen if they were found out. Seungcheol’s hand squeezed his arm gently.
“Woozi’s keeping an eye on them. It’s alright.” He said softly, “you’re all safe now.”

Sungjin chuckled, a little hysteric.
“Do you think–”
Something rocked the ship, and Sungjin fell as it rocked again, Seungcheol just managing to keep his balance, and then –

“Captain Seungcheol, the shack, it’s–”

“What Namjoon is trying to say it–”
“Oh! Sungjin!” Chan said, relief and an excited chirp filling his tone, and Sungjin peered between the railings, relaxing as he realized it was just Jay B, Namjoon, and Chan, the older two looking terrified.

Jay B was on the deck two seconds later, Sungjin’s face in his hands, looking him over.
“Are you okay? What happened, what’s wrong, the shack was gone and Wonpil’s coat–”
“Right here.” Wonpil yawned, stumbling as he clambered onto the deck.

“Port tried to kill us. Failed.” He said, slumping into Sungjin’s side and patting his face.
“Back to bed. ‘m tired.”

Sungjin just squeezed him close.
“Sleep, then.”
Wonpil shook his head.
“You too.”
Sungjin felt molten gold fill the cracks in his heart. Restoring it, making it whole in a way it hadn’t been since before it numbed.
“Alright.”