Yes, hello! I have not given up on this!

This boyo was drawn by littlecofiegirl on tumblr. If you look closely (or have the brightness higher than I had mine), you can see an awed Keef staring at him from the left.

xXx

"It's too bad, you know."

Keith lifted his head off the wall to look at Kuron. "What is?"

"I lost sixteen days' worth of meals gambling the other day."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "I think you either have a gambling problem, or you like making up stories too much."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of the pirate's mouth. "Little bit of both." Keith nodded with an utter lack of surprise as voices started calling in the distance. "That probably means we're almost there," he added.

"Hm?"

"They're calling to shore. They'll probably want you on board soon, once they start unloading," Kuron explained.

Keith pursed his lips in thought. His chances of escaping now, with pirates everywhere, would be even closer to impossible. But he couldn't just stay! Who knew what they had planned for him and Lance?

And there was also the problem of how to free Lance.

"Kuron, get up here with the prisoner! It's time to go ashore!" a voice called from above.

Kuron released a heavy sigh and heaved himself to his feet. "I was just getting comfortable, too," he muttered.

"You haven't moved since you came down here," Keith commented as Kuron pulled a single key out of his pocket. The sailor stood, flexing his hands in the ropes to try and restore some circulation to his fingers.

"Oh, hush." Kuron unlocked the door and opened it. "Now, don't try anything rash, or--"

Keith sprinted at the pirate, lowering his shoulder to shove him aside as he ran through the open door. But as he reached Kuron, the one-armed man seemed to sigh with resignation. Keith wondered why, almost hesitating, but didn't stop. 

There was a moment where he thought he was free. He just had to get up the ladder. Then he felt pressure on his leg. It turned to a sharp pain, and suddenly he was on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling.

"Now, why'd you have to go and do that?" Kuron's voice, still his usual sarcastic expression, had a more threatening undertone as he leaned down over the fallen sailor.

"Wh-- what?" Keith stuttered in surprise.

Kuron huffed and heaved him to his feet. "I thought you might be different. I hoped you'd see... but you're not any different from anyone else," he said quietly into Keith's ear, then shoved him to the ladder. "Get climbing," he said curtly, leaving Keith to wonder how he was going to get to the top deck with his hands tied.

xXx

After more effort than should have been necessary, Keith looked around at all the bustling commotion around him. He was mostly out of the way, but he was aware of how close he was to being trampled at any given moment. Behind him was Kuron, holding his arm to keep him from running off again.

A number of pirates gathered around the cabin. Keith watched them closely. He knew that Lance was in there, and he needed to see for himself that he was okay.

As he watched, they entered the cabin. He bit his lip with apprehension, fearing what they might be doing, but also glad to know that he and Lance would soon be free of the captain.

After an eternal moment, they came back out, carrying the box that Keith had seen before. He started to take a step forward to intercept them, but Kuron's hand was on his arm, stopping him. He opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself, watching in agony as they roughly tipped its liquid contents over the side of the ship. He heard a yelp and could barely keep himself from crying out for his friend as they tipped the box upright and resumed carrying it.

"It's amazing," one of the pirates commented.

That was the last straw.

"Lance!" he called, straining against Kuron's grip.

"Keith!" the mermaid called back, his voice filled with terror. "Where are you?"

"Lance, I'm--" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm here!"

The necklace burned at Keith's throat as Lance called, "Keith! I can't... I can't see you!"

Keith nodded despite himself. "I know, but--" Kuron's hand disappeared from his arm, and the sailor instinctively started to step forward.

A blunt force crashed into the side of his skull. He staggered away from where it had come, but found his arm in a hand again. He lifted his bound hands to his head, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. His vision blurred slightly as he struggled to focus through the pain. What--?

"I told you not to try anything," Kuron hissed in his ear.

"KEITH!" Lance shouted, sounding like he was on the verge of hysteria. Keith's necklace was heating up at an alarming rate as the pirates carried the box, mermaid inside, toward the gangway to the dock.

"I'm okay!" Keith called as the distance between them grew. "I'll get you out! We'll be okay!"

"Keith!" Lance wailed as they reached the dock. Keith tried to pull away, to get to his only friend and ally within a hundred miles, but he was the iron grip on his arm only grew stronger, and Lance grew farther and farther away. "Keith!"

Keith set his jaw as the box, carried by the pirates, disappeared from sight.

"Look, kid, I hate to break it to you, but you aren't in any position to do anything here," Kuron's voice said near his ear, slightly more gently than before. "If you're lucky, they'll let you go for old age."

His nose crinkled as he fought the urge to snap at the pirate or do something even more irrational. "Whose side are you on?" he asked quietly, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Kuron stared straight ahead. "In the end, we're all just fighting for ourselves."

"Not all of us," Keith replied simply.

"One-arm! Get the prisoner over here!" one of the crewmen supervising the unloading called.

Kuron dutifully let go of Keith and pushed him forward, but Keith noticed his heavy sigh at the name. He didn't say anything, but couldn't help but realize that while Kuron was doing his job, it was just that: a job. He didn't seem to like it any more than Keith did.

"Get going!" someone shouted. The command may not have been directed at Kuron, but the pirate sped up regardless.

Then the castle came into view.

Looming red walls domineered the entire island, built into the side of the mountain that seemed to be the main feature of the otherwise simple landscape. There was some greenery visible in the distance, but it was far from the bustling port, full of ships and pirates as it was. Where all the pirates were hustling and bustling about was stark, with only their clothes and the occasional exotic flower being carried into the palace to brighten the view.

All activity seemed to be leading into or coming out of the castle. Keith occasionally caught glimpses of men sitting on the edge of the dock, but he was quickly swept away, carried in the flow of bodies.

"Careful not to get lost," Kuron warned. "You might end up with a fate worse than imprisonment, and trust me when I say it wouldn't come from the prisonmasters."

Keith furrowed his brow but didn't say anything as the flow carried them through the front doors of the castle.

The interior was even grander than the outside, decorated by lush curtains and various expensive-looking sculptures. Some were gold, some silver, and some seemed to hold their value by their mere craftsmanship. Keith looked at them with slackjawed amazement as he was prodded forward by Kuron at his back.

"They sure are amazing, aren't they?" the pirate asked, noticing his expression.

He nodded, still taking in the high ceiling of the room they were passing through, painted with intricate designs of the oceans. "It's amazing that no one's stolen them all yet," Keith commented distractedly.

Kuron nodded, glancing around as well. "You could live handsomely if you managed to sell one of these things on the black...er market."

They passed a golden statue of a man. Its features were undefined, and the position was unusual, to say the least. The arms were shielding its face, its feet were spread apart, and it looked on the verge of toppling over. However, it looked almost like butter that had melted and resolidified-- its edges had still been dripping when it cooled. It was an unusual choice of decoration, to say the least. It took several moments, but Keith realized what it really was as Kuron continued, "There's a reason we don't."

"You do that to--" Keith couldn't finish.

"It's a harsh reality, but it's reality nonetheless," Kuron answered. He nudged Keith toward a staircase leading down into a dark unknown. "Now let's get you to your cell."

xXx

Needless to say, Lance was miserable.

He was bounced around as the pirates jostled his crate, now devoid of anything to cushion his impacts. He couldn't see anything but the blue sky, unblemished by the presence of a single cloud. Occasionally he could see glimpses of the faces of the pirates carrying him, and their expressions did nothing to comfort him.

He could feel his skin already starting to dry out. His lips were chapped and beginning to crack, and his chest was tightening with some combination of anxiety and his physical condition. With each breath he drew, his throat became more raw and his lungs more ragged. He curled around himself, cradling his injured arm and trying to remember what his parents always told him to do if he somehow found himself on land. Make yourself small? Check. Try and find shade? Not really an option. Find a source of water to last until you can get back to the sea? Not really possible either. He was left with only the hope that the pirates would care enough about his welfare to give him water soon.

After several minutes of passing what he guessed to be clusters of pirates, many of which stared at him and made various noises of admiration or the like, they came to a halt. He looked up apprehensively, but was abruptly jostled as they set it down on... was it wood? It sounded like wood on wood. What was going on now? Were they going to--

He was moving.

He was being lifted in the air, so much faster and farther than before. However, no one had picked him up this time. As his shock passed, he saw some of those cords-- Keith called them coats?-- coming from somewhere out of his view and connecting at a single point above him. It seemed that it was the coats were pulling him up. He started to pant for breath as a strange contraption above a strange protrusion from the rock face came into view. It looked like (what was it called again?) a wheel that rolled along, pulling the coat with it.

He came to a jarring halt at the protrusion. After a moment, new pirates clustered around him and lifted him once again, carrying him to his mysterious new destination.

There was new ceiling above him now, this time a strange red stone. It passed by quickly as they carried him swiftly to a relievingly cooler place, with shade now. He was glad to no longer have the sun beating down on his already drying skin, but he his breathing was still growing more and more difficult as he--

The lid was gone.

The box was tipping.

He was falling.

No, no, he was going to fall on the ground! He would hurt his arm even more and--

Whoosh.

He could breathe.

His dry skin cried out in relief.

Water flowed past his gills.

He took a moment to revel in the taste of salt water on his tongue again before he opened his eyes.

The water he was now submerged in water about a fin-length deep, and he could stretch out his tail much farther than he'd been able to since he'd been put in the box. For a moment, he squinted at his surroundings to try and bring them into focus, then realized that it wasn't his eyes that were the problem. Everything was actually somewhat blurred, and as he turned, they became more and less clear depending on where he was positioned.

He slowly lifted his head above the water, leaving his nose and mouth submerged. He could now see drops of water resting on large pieces of glass that seemed to contain him and the liquid he was submersed in. The room the container was in had a wooden floor with the red stone ceiling he'd seen earlier. A series of metal rings dangled from this above layer, each with several burning lumps of a strange white substance on top. This provided a source of light to the areas not lit by the sun shining through the large doors on one side of the room. There were a desk and a large chair facing away from the window, each ornately designed, but his attention was quickly drawn to the large figure standing in front of him.

They were a human, he was fairly certain. Unless Lance was greatly misinformed about the human race as a whole, they were male. He had deeply tanned skin and broad shoulders, and he was wearing a long maroon coat (wait, those things earlier weren't coats, they were ropes! Of course! Stupid, stupid mistake.) that made Lance question his moral standings even more than his mysteriously inexpressive expression. All that he could read from the scarred, intense face of this stranger was either smug pleasure or a (failed) attempt at a comforting smile.

"I'm glad to see you made it here well enough," the stranger said finally. Lance didn't answer. "I'm sorry about your treatment up to this point. They never seem to get it into their heads that you're more than just another fish to be put in a tank." Lance's expression just hardened more. "The reason you were delivered here from the ship without water is that the pen is significantly lighter without it. It's faster and more efficient to get you here without it, and though I've spoken to my captains about it before, they never seem to get the point." He seemed genuinely apologetic. "I'd just like to talk." Lance shifted back slightly, his eyes narrowed slightly. The man sighed. "Please. I didn't have you brought this far to sit around and look beautiful, even if you will anyway."

Lance tilted his head slightly and lifted his mouth just above the surface of the water. He couldn't help but feel somewhat flattered by the offhanded compliment. "What do you want, then?"

The man spread his hands in what looked like a fairly warm gesture. "Your kind is known for its wisdom and power, as well as its connection to the sea. I'd just like to see if it's true."

"Why go to all this trouble to talk to me? You seem to have everything figured out very specifically for this type of thing. Sounds like more effort than it's worth to me."

"I've been wanting to talk to one of you for some time. And in the past, we've kept fish in the castle here for decoration." Lance opened his mouth to chastise him for using living creatures as ornamentation, but the man lifted a hand, shaking his head. "Not my idea," he said.

"Well, what would it take to--" Lance crossed his arms and winced as he accidentally put pressure on his sore spot.

The man immediately stepped forward. "What's wrong?" he asked in a concerned tone.

Lance looked at his sore arm, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. It had turned an unhealthy shade of purple and yellow in the distinct shape of the bars where it had impacted. It was swollen painfully and throbbed when he even flexed his arm.

"Oh, no, this won't do at all." The man shook his head firmly. He went to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a bottle of... a strange glowing liquid. It resembled the bioluminescent fish Lance had seen in the past, but all drained and concentrated into a single container. He couldn't tell its real color through the bottle, but he could feel its power through all the glass between it and him. It seemed to radiate energy at a frequency that resonated perfectly with his soul. It was eerie, and as the man poured a small amount of the liquid into a bowl, Lance could only stare at it, transfixed by the strange fluid.

The man placed his hand on the glass by Lance's head just above the water level, and he could barely think to back away before the man slid aside a panel of the glass and held out his empty hand. "Let me see your arm," he said. Lance hesitantly complied, wary of what may have been his intentions but also incredibly curious as to what would happen.

The man took his wrist gently in his free hand, turning it to see the bruise. After studying it for a moment with pursed lips, he tipped the bowl slowly, allowing its contents to run onto Lance's arm.

Immediately when it touched his skin, his nerves erupted in tingling. His arm felt like it was on fire, but it didn't hurt in the least. It was excruciating, but he didn't mind the sensation at all. He had no idea what was happening, but he felt calm as the glow faded and he could once again see his arm.

His jaw dropped as he stared at where there had once been a horribly swollen bruise. Now there was just smooth, unblemished skin. Even the slight redness that had persisted after his hot-water incident with the captain had disappeared.

Lance lifted his eyes to the man, who had closed the opening in the glass and put away the bottle and bowl. "Who are you?" he asked softly.

He smiled the same smile from earlier, the confusing 'smug or reassuring' one. In a warm tone, he answered, "My name is Zarkon."