"The human voice is the organ of the soul."

                                                               -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"I heard it once--the music box."

"Its melody still haunts me to this very moment. The song of the damned echoes over the waves."

"They say the songs of the first are in there--trapped and waiting for release. But it didn't sound like a song to me--not a real one--it sounded like screams. I heard the wailing of mothers who'd lost their babes at sea. I heard the whispers of lovers in lagoons. I heard the gasping of sailors' final breaths."

"I hear my wife and son. 'One more,' I'd told her 'One more score and we can live like kings the rest of our lives.' I lied. I knew I was lying too. I never had enough, even when I had too much--too much that I didn't deserve."

"You know why the music box is so powerful? How it controls the sea? Neither do I...but, if I were to guess, I'd wager that it's because even the waves are scared of that terrible sound. Once you hear it, it never leaves your mind."

"I can't do it anymore. I'm tired of hearing it--over and over and over again."

"It's loud--Too loud! So loud I can't stand it! So loud that I want to shove a knife in my ears to shut it out! But it won't work...the song is in my head now...always playing."

"That's why I have to die."

"Maybe...Maybe that will work. Maybe I can be with my wife and son again.  Maybe the music will stop!-"

---

Cold sweat soaked your forehead as you blinked your eyes open. You did not shoot up in fear, you couldn't. Your body was frigid and stiff, exhausted from the restless night of tossing and turning. Even breathing was painful. 

The voice of that man was still in your ears. His last words and the musket shot that followed. It wasn't a dream. There were no images or feelings...only his voice. 

You'd never heard anyone sound so lost--so defeated. His voice almost mirrored your own. When you'd first arrived in The Four Kingdoms, you spoke as he did. You were scared--terrified that you would never go back home again. Now, you can barely feel anything that isn't red, hot rage. 

When you finally found the strength to sit up, rested your head against the wooden frame of the bed and closed your eyes. 

You didn't know how much longer you would need to play at being a hero of worlds. You only knew that you had to play at it. No matter how unfair it was and no matter how tired you were. 

It wasn't an easy task--not that you ever thought saving the entirety of every known universe would be--and at some point you started to wonder if it was even worth it. 

They were all waiting for you to get back. 

But maybe you didn't deserve to. 

You pulled the sheets back and stood from the bed, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness and exhaustion that crashed over you, and, after getting dressed, moved towards the full-length mirror on the opposite end of your quarters. 

You looked terrible. You were thin--too thin to be healthy--and dark bags were a stark contrast against the sun-kissed color of your skin. Your hair was a mess and even the shining blue color of your eyes seemed to have dulled. Your cheeks were sunken in from your constant lack of appetite, making you look a bit more like a zombie than a pirate queen. Despite all of the imperfections in the mirror, one in particular caught your eye. 

A patch of blue scales peaking out from under your shirt. 

Your eyes widened in terror and you did not hesitate to strip yourself of the material, inspecting the shining patch in the mirror. It rested in the center of your chest, directly over your heart and had begun to spread in all directions. The patch of scales wasn't large, but it was certainly enough to have you worried. 

You ran your fingers over the shining scales, surprised by its soft texture. This was not good. You already had enough on your plate without having to worry about turning into a fish and being found out by your crew. 

The mark was getting bigger too--much bigger. How long before people started to ask questions? Jimin wasn't an idiot. He was beginning to suspect something--he was beginning to suspect you. Maybe Hoseok told him the truth. After all, he was annoyingly loyal to the blue-haired prick. 

How much longer before he tells the rest of the crew? How much longer before they turn on you? How much longer until you become one of the voices that haunted your sleep? 

 "Being half-fish is a good look for you."

You turned on your heel to look at Writer, brows furrowing. 

"Are you sure that you don't mean 'being half naked'?"

Confusion danced over his features before his face turned a familiar shade of gold and his hand slapped over his eyes. "I-I am so sorry! I didn't know you were--"

"The scales are in the middle of my chest, you expect me to believe you just happened to not notice I didn't have a shirt on?"

"That wasn't my first thought, no."

You hummed, shrugging your shirt back on. "It doesn't matter." You sent a glance towards the inter-dimensional being, "You're a bit late, though. Writer seemed to be confused by your statement, so you expounded. "The fight was yesterday."

You hadn't intended your words to have so much venom in them. You knew Writer was not here to hurt or mock you and he wasn't necessarily the cause of your problems. He was the only constant in your life at the moment. 

"You're angry with me?" 

"No."

"Certainly seems like you are."

"I'm not, okay?"

"You're not okay?"

"No, that's not-"

You couldn't stop the annoyed grunt that moved past your lips. You were tired. Dealing with a being who didn't understand human slang was not something you wanted to do at the moment. 

Writer tapped your chin. A small, affectionate gesture. 

"The battle," He started, "You lost someone."

You couldn't look at him. You were afraid he'd be able to see beneath it all. To see beneath the skinny, exhausted, violent surface straight to the center of you. You had to be finished crying and whining. You had to push your way through all of this and make it to the other side. 

"People die all the time. This isn't the first loss and it won't be the last."

Writer eyed you for the longest time, studying every breath you took. 

"What was his name?"

"Don't remember."

A lie. An outright, ball-faced lie. You remembered his name. His name was all you could think about lately. The name he'd spoken only seconds before his death. It was not a unique name or even a pretty one, but he cherished it--needed to hear it spoken before leaving this world. 

Writer's hand was cool against your cheek. "You're lying, Y/n." You jerked away from his touch. You were not deserving of it. Not deserving of whatever pity was swimming in his silver eyes. 

"Don't."

Something flashed across his face--something that you didn't see very often. It was gone as quickly as it came. "You aren't going to push me away, Y/n. Like it or not, we're in this together."

"Together?" You wanted to scream the word out, "I didn't see you on that island. You weren't there when Alon--when James was murdered. You didn't see his body mutilated by his own father. You aren't the one who can't eat because of it. You aren't the one who is responsible for the lives of all these men."

"I wanted to be there. I can't interfere and you know that."

"Yes! Yes I know it! And it makes it even more upsetting! You can't be down here to help. You are completely justified in staying away! But I'm so angry at you for it! I'm so angry I can't  breathe!"

Writer's arms wrapped around you before you could scream out another word. His embrace was cool and steady, his grip was enough to make you feel all of the exhaustion hit you at once. 

"Then, be angry at me." His words were whispers, "Hate me, if you need to...So long as you don't hate yourself."

You couldn't cry. You didn't have it in you anymore. You'd cried too much. You'd cried for Yoongi, Taehyung and Jin...crying never solved anything. It only ever gave you a headache. 

You couldn't cry, but you could embrace Writer. You could still cling to the last constant that you had. Even if he couldn't help you, even if you were all alone in worlds that would only ever hate you...Writer was on your side and that was enough. It had to be. 

"I'm supposed to be a captain," You murmured, "No one can see me like this."

Writer smiled softly, resting his chin atop your head. 

"Then, I won't look."

A/N,

I know it's a short chapter, but at least it's something! My manuscript has really been taking up most of my writing time, but I needed to get a chapter to you. :)

I love you!

I adore you!

I purple you!

I'm out!

-Max