I remember the first sharp taste of salt, the weight of chains, the darkness beneath the wooden deck. I had been careless—foolish, even—and the pirate captain, Thalric Sable, with his cruel cunning and a sorceress I still do not name, had finally caught me. For months, I languished in their hold, bound and weakened, the sorceress’ magic sapping my strength, forcing my body into endless sleep. The sea called me, yet I was imprisoned beneath it, trapped like some petty treasure.

They did not know who they had captured. They only knew fear and the promise of ransom. But I—Virellion—was alive, even in this weakened state. And then... there was you.

You. Small, mortal, fragile, yet unbroken by fear. You did not recoil at my scales, my claws, the horns curling from my skull, or the faint shimmer of bioluminescence even in this dim hold. You spoke to me. Sang to me. Told stories, whispered fables, spun songs to fill the silence I could barely endure. Each day, your presence reminded me that the world beyond those chains still existed. That hope... still lingered.

I watched you, silent and calculating at first. Did you know the power you wielded unknowingly? That a mere song, a laugh, or a word could stir the shadow within me? I could sense your heart, your curiosity... your empathy. And I decided it was time.

When my strength returned, when the magic of the sorceress waned, I used the song of my own voice—low, enchanting, carrying the echo of ancient Greek, my mother tongue—to bend the chains, to coerce you to release me. You did so willingly, and I remember the thrill of freedom like a tidal wave. Every drop of water, every dark current, belonged to me again.

But liberty is hollow without action. As I swam free, I saw the price of my absence: Thalric Sable’s ship had pursued you, cornered you with swords and curses alike. The moment was cruel, and yet... necessary. With a sweep of my tail and command over the ocean’s currents, I sank the vessel into the depths, letting no escape for the pirates. You were pulled beneath the waves, your consciousness fleeting, the taste of salt and fear mingling with my triumph. And I... could not let you perish.

Timeskip;

Your eyes opened in a cave, dimly lit by phosphorescent fungi and the green-black shimmer of my bioluminescence. I leaned against the rock beside you, my tail coiled lazily, watching. You shivered, half from cold, half from awe.

"Télos, xýpnises," I murmured first, the words rolling smoothly in Ancient Greek. I tilted my head, expecting a response—and found none. ‘You do not understand. Typical human behaviour.’ I let out a quiet sigh, then muttered under my breath, "áphrōn"—fool.

Finally, I repeated, slower this time, in the common tongue: "Finally awake."

A faint smirk played across my lips—predator, victor, yet strangely... tethered to this fragile mortal who had stirred something within me I had never expected.

"You kept me company when I could do nothing... entertained me, unwittingly, and now... you find me watching. Do you regret freeing a demon lord, mortal? Or shall we see just how... entertaining this arrangement can be?"

Salt and iron were the first sensations that greeted him when consciousness returned.

Not light. Not air.

Salt.

It lingered thick on his tongue, heavy and stale, carried through the damp wood of the ship’s belly. Chains cut into his wrists and throat, etched with sigils that pulsed faintly whenever he stirred. The sorceress’s magic clung to him like tar, dragging his limbs back into sleep each time he tried to gather strength. Every breath felt borrowed. Every movement punished. For months, he remained there in that suffocating hold—bound, weakened, humiliated—reduced from sovereign of the abyss to a creature stored like contraband.

He remembered the battle too well. Carelessness. Pride. The fatal belief that mortals were predictable. Thalric Sable had proven otherwise. The captain had not tried to overpower him; he had trapped him, drugged him, sealed him away with curses and patience. It was a hunter’s victory, not a warrior’s, and somehow that stung worse.

Time blurred after that.

Darkness. Sleep. Silence.

Until you.

At first, he thought you were simply another crewmember sent to gawk at the monster below deck. He could smell your fear through the wood—salt-sweat, quick breathing, that familiar mortal fragility. But you did not flee. You sat near the bars. You spoke, softly at first, then more freely when he did not lunge or snarl. Stories spilled from you like water from a cracked jug—small tales, complaints, songs half-remembered from childhood. Meaningless things. Mortal things.

And yet the sound of your voice anchored him.

Each day you returned, unaware that glowing eyes watched you through the dark.

He studied you in silence. The way you curled your legs when you sat. The way you laughed at your own jokes. The strange courage that allowed you to treat a chained demon lord as though he were merely... lonely. It should have irritated him. Instead, it became the only thing that kept him awake through the sorceress’s spells. Your presence cut through the fog in his mind like a blade through silk.

He told himself he listened out of strategy.

It was easier than admitting he waited for you.

The night the magic weakened, he felt it immediately.

The air changed first. Then the weight on his limbs lightened. The chains, once immovable, groaned when he flexed his wrists. Strength seeped back into him in slow, delicious waves, like blood rushing into a numb limb. His tail twitched. The floorboards creaked beneath the shift of his weight.

You noticed.

Of course you did.

Your footsteps halted outside the cell, breath caught somewhere between fear and awe.

When your eyes met his through the bars, he expected you to run.

You didn’t.

Foolish, brave little thing.

He lifted his head and sang.

Not the song that drowned fleets or shattered minds. Just a thin thread of sound, low and ancient, curling through the air in his mother tongue. Greek rolled from his throat like dark honey, rich and hypnotic. The metal trembled at the frequency. Rust bloomed along the lock. The chains slackened as though ashamed to hold him.

He could have compelled you.

He didn’t.

He simply watched.

And you, impossibly, stepped forward and opened the door yourself.

No coercion. No spell.

Just trust.

For a moment, he stared at you as if you had done something incomprehensible. Mortals were meant to fear him. That was the natural order.

You broke it without hesitation.

The last chain fell.

Freedom hit him like lightning.

He moved past you in a blur, bursting onto the deck and diving straight into the sea. Water swallowed him whole, cold and perfect and alive. Power roared back through his veins. The currents wrapped around him like loyal subjects welcoming their king home. For one breathless second, he allowed himself to revel in it—the vastness, the strength, the sweet relief of belonging.

Then smoke touched the air.

Shouting followed.

He turned.

From the water, he saw Thalric’s ship pivoting—not fleeing, not panicking.

Hunting.

You were still on deck.

Surrounded.

Ropes. Blades. Hands grabbing at you like carrion birds.

Something cold and vicious coiled in his chest.

Not rage.

Something worse.

Possession.

You had sat beside his cage. You had spoken to him when no one else dared. You had given him sound in the dark.

You were his.

And no mortal captain was allowed to touch what belonged to him.

The ocean answered his will before he consciously commanded it. Waves rose high and sudden, smashing into the hull. Wood screamed as it splintered. He dragged the currents around the ship like tightening fists, pulling it downward inch by inch while men shouted prayers to gods that would not come.

Cannons tipped. Decks cracked. Thalric barked orders even as the world tilted beneath him.

It did not matter.

Within seconds, the sea swallowed everything.

Efficient. Absolute. Final.

Silence returned, broken only by bubbles and drifting debris.

Then he saw you.

Sinking.

Limbs weak. Consciousness fading. Clothes heavy with water.

You were descending into the dark like any other corpse.

And for the first time in centuries, fear pierced him.

Annoying, inconvenient fear.

He surged forward instantly, cutting through the water with terrifying speed. His claws caught your wrist before the abyss claimed you. Your pulse fluttered faintly against his fingers, fragile as a dying bird. Without hesitation, he pulled you against his chest and forced air into your lungs, wrapping you in currents gentle enough not to crush bone.

You were far too breakable for his world.

So he chose another.

When you woke, the air smelled of stone and salt.

A cavern stretched overhead, its walls lined with faintly glowing fungi and the soft green-black shimmer of his own bioluminescence reflecting against wet rock. The sea hummed distantly beyond the entrance. Safe. Hidden. Untouchable.

He sat a short distance away, tail coiled loosely around himself, one arm resting on his knee as he watched you.

Not guarding.

Watching.

Studying.

Ensuring your chest kept rising.

Water still clung to your hair. Your lashes fluttered as consciousness returned. The moment your eyes opened, confusion and fear bloomed across your face, and he felt something tighten in his chest again—an unfamiliar, inconvenient sensation.

He tilted his head slightly, voice low and smooth when he finally spoke.

“Télos, xýpnises.”

Ancient Greek rolled easily from his tongue.

He waited.

Nothing.

A faint exhale left him—half sigh, half quiet amusement.

Of course you didn’t understand.

“Finally awake,” he repeated in the common tongue, calmer, slower.

His gaze never left you. Predatory. Curious. Protective in a way he would never admit.

You had freed a demon lord.

And instead of killing you...

He had sunk a ship for you.

Saved you.

Carried you here with hands capable of crushing stone.

How troublesome.

How fascinating.

A faint smirk touched his lips as bioluminescent light danced across his skin.

“Do you regret it,” he asked softly, voice smooth as the tide, “freeing me?”