The Noble’s Merman

Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

K ent could hardly believe that he was walking through the fields of Cornwall with none other than Mo. His merman, while still technically a mer by blood, now had the body of a human. So much about their lives was changing right before them, for the better, and Kent anticipated every wonderful minute of it.

As they walked along the same path Kent took earlier, he asked Mo if he knew why the shift happened in that moment. Mo explained what Wenta the mermaid told him, along with Noon the whale, that the shift would occur when there was a connection between a mer and at least one human, and that connection was made wholly, completely, and truthfully. Even though Mo had made a connection with Kent, the shift never took hold because Mo wasn’t being honest about who he was. But once Mo finally told the truth, and Kent accepted that truth, strengthening their connection, the magic finally activated to grant him his wish for legs.

Kent also asked him if he knew if it was possible to regain his tail, now that he was in human form. He said he could. Mo wasn’t sure how exactly, but he knew it was possible because of what Wenta said her grandmother was able to do. But he reassured Kent that either way, even if he didn’t figure out how to become mer again, he had no qualms living the rest of his life as a human, as long as it meant a life by Kent’s side.

They walked further along, and Kent spotted the same field of sheep he saw earlier. He pointed them out to Mo, who cheered in delight so sweetly, witnessing the animals for the first time.

“I swear, I’ve never seen a creature so adorable!” said Mo, leaning against the short fence that kept the sheep within.

“Even more adorable than me?” Kent hugged him closer, still holding onto Mo’s waist.

“I meant something other than a human, mind you,” he chuckled.

“I know, I know. But just wait until you see cats and dogs.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, because right now I’m smitten with the sheep.”

Kent was glad the farmer was nowhere in sight because he knew they must’ve made quite the picture: two shirtless men, holding onto each other so closely, enchanted by a simple flock of sheep.

The town was still quite a good distance away, and Kent knew that before they approached, Mo and him had a lot to discuss on how they would go about finding hospitality. Not only that, how would he introduce Mo to his family when they finally found a way back to Fareham House?

“You’ll need a human name,” said Kent, walking with Mo down a cart path cutting through the grassy fields. He wasn’t supporting Mo’s weight as much anymore as to encourage him to balance on his own, but he still kept one hand touching Mo’s back. “Humans have at least two names: a Christian name and a family name. For example, Kent is my Christian name and Wilson is my family name. Fareham is simply a title because of my nobility, so you won’t need to worry about that.”

“All right,” said Mo with a grin. “What do you suppose would be a good name for me?”

Kent hummed and scratched his chin with his free hand. “Something similar to Mo. How about Mo… Mo… Mor… Maurice? Yes, what do you think of Maurice?”

“Maurice…” he said it slowly, as if weighing the syllables on his tongue. “I like it! Would that be a ‘Christian name’ or a ‘family name’?”

“A Christian name. That way I can still call you ‘Mo’ for short. Humans use shorter forms of names as terms of endearment.” Kent winked at him. “Though I’ll likely only call you Mo when we’re alone, or perhaps around my sister.”

“Ah, yes. I remember her. She’ll be one of the only people who knows the truth of who I am.”

“Mhmm.” Kent nodded, leading them toward the buildings of the town he saw in the distance. “As for a family name, I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not my own. But it will still have to suit you, since that’s what most people will actually call you.”

“Is this some sort of… formality rules?”

“Yes, unfortunately. So people will only call you Maurice if they are close to you.”

“I understand. I think the only other person who I heard call you ‘Kent’ was your sister.”

“Precisely. So, what would go with Maurice… Something that you wouldn’t mind being called by strangers… Maurice R—how about Richards? Yes, that’s a well good family name.”

“If you like it, then I like it!” Mo exclaimed, and then he nearly stumbled, catching himself before he fell completely over.

“Woah, easy now!” Kent held out an arm to help Mo balance. “Perhaps you should watch your feet as you walk, to prevent yourself from tripping. Are you in pain?”

“A bit, yes.” Mo grimaced, then shook his head, making his expression relax. “I’ll be fine. This is the first time I’ve ever walked before, you know.”

“Of course. Do you want to take it at a slower pace?”

“Not really, because I’m too curious to see what the inside of a human building looks like. I’ve only seen paintings of them; I wish to witness it myself.”

“All right, all right,” Kent chuckled, and they continued walking like before. “Maurice Richards. That will be your human name.”

“Maurice Richards. Thank you, Kent. I wouldn’t have gotten a better name from anyone else.” Mo lifted his hand and placed it on the small of Kent’s back.

“You’re very welcome, Mr Richards.”

They walked along the path further, and it wasn’t much longer to where if they went any closer, most likely another person would spot them. So far they were lucky to have not come across anyone in this very rural area, but they needed to have a story. They needed to be prepared for what to tell the townspeople to explain themselves and their state of undress, though thankfully, Kent had an idea of what they could say that wasn’t that far from the truth.

He told Mo the plan: Maurice Richards was a man Kent met on board The Sterling Mer , a swab who had no living family or place to call his own. Both of them, along with some friends they were searching for (Allen, Seth, and perhaps Wenta) were taken captive as prisoners aboard a pirate ship. But suddenly the weather turned for the worse and the ship sank, not too far away, and they all had bravely swam back to shore. Kent could hopefully use his status as nobility to garner them a nice place to stay for the night, along with a coach to travel back to Stubbington. And perhaps, if they were lucky, they’d run into their missing friends again.

They finally made it to an area of some residential buildings, and Kent spoke to a servant he found outside of one. The lad gave them directions to the nearest public house, and Kent thanked him, though the lad gave them both a quizzical look. Kent knew they would attract stares dressed as they were, but hopefully, they wouldn’t be like this for much longer.

Only a couple blocks away was the aforementioned public house, and Kent opened the front doors, leading himself and Mo into the lobby. A matron was seated by a desk, reading a book, when their entrance startled her and she looked up.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “To whom may you be? What is going on here?”

“Please, ma’am, we ask for your hospitality,” said Kent, holding one hand flat on Mo’s back. He told her their story, of how they were shipwrecked and of how he was nobility, and they needed a place to rest and recuperate before they found their way back home. The matron was shocked and amazed at such a large tale, but believed them, and pitied them. Such a story moved her with how they were able to swim such a long distance without drowning, persevering, and fighting tooth and nail to ensure they both lived.

“You poor creatures!” said the matron, ushering them to have a seat on a sofa near the fireplace. “The son of an earl too, the Earl of Fareham! Oh, he shall be so happy to know you are alive. Would you like me to send out a message to him, my lord?”

“Yes please, if you could. I’d like to write to him.”

Sitting to his left, Mo suddenly winced in pain. He let out a moan, and the matron gasped, resting her hand on Mo’s shoulder.

“Oh, pray! Are you hurt?” she asked.

“A bit…”

“He strained his muscles tremendously from helping me swim to shore,” Kent offered. “I’m… not that great of a swimmer, so he did most of the work getting us here.”

“I see, my lord.” The matron—who’d introduced herself as Mrs Robinson—took another curious look at the once-merman. “Mr Richards, how does your necklace glow like that? I’ve never seen such a thing!”

Mo looked up, and probably, just like Kent, must’ve forgotten he was even wearing it with how he widened his eyes. “It… it was a gift from an old friend,” said Mo, making up an excuse. “I haven’t seen them in years; I don’t know whatever happened to them, but they told me that such crystals came from the bottom of the sea.”

“And the pirates who captured you didn’t think to loot such a beautiful jewel from you?”

Mo pouted his lips. “I… was led to believe these are fairly common under the sea. The pirates must’ve known so too, hence them not thinking it valuable enough to steal from me.”

Kent thought it was rather clever how Mo weaved in half-truths about sea crystals while also omitting the fact of the existence of merfolk. No wonder he could make me believe he wasn’t a siren—he’s rather good at lying. Kent smirked inwardly at the thought, but didn’t hold such a notion against Mo. He’ll need to use that skill to make everyone believe he’s a normal human.

“Ah, I see, I see,” said the matron warmly. “I wonder if those sort of crystals belonged to the merfolk, then? I’ve heard some tales, but was never sure if they were true.”

“Perhaps they are true, who knows?” said Mo with a smile.

“I’ll make sure to see that you two have comfortable beds and a warm meal. You need it, oh, you lads need it.”

“And some new clothes perhaps, please?” asked Kent. “I promise to send money your way once I’m able to, to accommodate for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Lord Fareham, you don’t have to. I’ll be happy to do whatever in my power to make you feel at home. Though… I’m afraid the pickings for quality fabric are slim here, unless you wish to travel into the city. Which, I suppose you can’t even do that unless you were wearing something else…”

“Please, Mrs Robinson, don’t you worry about that. There’s nothing wrong with a servant’s clothes, if they are willing to part with something spare that would fit either of us.”

The matron nodded, lifting her hand off Mo and standing up straight. “All right, as long as you are comfortable with that, my lord.”

“More than comfortable to wear anything , as long as it’s clean.” He smiled, and then he looked over to Mo, smiling right back at him.

Kent then asked Mrs Robinson where exactly they were, and Kent was right, they were in Cornwall, in a little town called St Just. He asked if she’d seen their friends Allen and Seth, possibly a woman with them too, but unfortunately, the matron had not come across any group like he described. However, she assured him that if they made it to shore, his friends surely did as well; most likely, since they were separated whilst swimming, they might’ve simply washed up closer to a different town. Kent hoped for the same, still a bit tense, and Mo seemed to notice. He put his hand on Kent’s knee.

“Trust me. I know they’ll be fine. We’ll see them again.”

Mo’s reassurance sent a warm glow through his chest. “You’re right. Yes, yes, you’re right. We will.”

Mo was faced with a new obstacle when they were shown to their room: stairs. The only experience he had with them was from that last day on The Sterling Mer , hastily crawling up them with his arms and tail. But lifting his legs? It took more effort than simply walking, and Kent needed to hold onto him every step of the way. Thankfully, Mrs Robinson didn’t think it was strange, and just attributed his clumsiness to him being shaken and tired from their journey.

He had hoped the pain would’ve lessened further by now, but he wasn’t so lucky. While he could say it wasn’t as intense as when they first started walking, each step still stung his nerves and shot bolts of lightning up his legs. Perhaps his recovery would simply take some more time. He could adjust.

The room had two of the most luxurious beds he’d ever seen. Each was draped in blankets of soft-looking tan cloths, though instead of plopping down on one right away, Kent directed him to sit in a wooden chair first. He said they’d need to get a change of clothes and a wash before they lay down, and Mo understood that.

But first and foremost, a servant of the establishment brought them some food. It was served in a bowl, and appeared as almost a liquid. Mo was curious how he was supposed to eat such a thing—was he supposed to tip the bowl up to his lips like he had with the cup of rum?—and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of others for not knowing how to eat something so common for a human. Thankfully, the servant left them alone and closed the door behind herself, and Kent showed him what to do, setting his own bowl down on a table between their chairs and grabbing the utensil from Mo’s.

“This is called chicken stew, and you eat it with a spoon. I think you’ll like it,” said Kent, holding the spoon with a bit of food resting on top of it.

“What exactly is in it?”

“Chicken, some vegetables, and some herbs. Chicken is a type of bird, by the way.”

“All right. I’ve never eaten any sort of bird before, but if you say so…”

“Trust me,” said Kent with a smile.

Kent placed the spoon in Mo’s mouth, and his tongue was greeted with the wonderful warmth of the savory flavor. He moaned as the delicious substance melted in his mouth, and Kent giggled as he scooped up more to feed him.

Not much later, the servant brought them some new clothes, along with fresh rags to wash themselves. Even washing in this sense was new to him, having been submerged in water most of his life. But Kent helped him with everything he needed, carefully rubbing the wet rag over his skin, wiping off the dirt that clung to his new feet. His beloved’s gentle touches counteracted any pain that dared to come forth, filling Mo up with such a warm sensation: the comfort of love.

For now, they would only put shirts on and would save putting on the rest for when they left the room. Mo took his necklaces off and set them on top of what Kent called a ‘nightstand’ between the two beds, along with untying Kent’s old shirt from his waist, throwing it on the floor in a pile with Kent’s breeches. Kent helped him slip on the clean white shirt, pulling it over his head, the bottom hem reaching his mid-thigh.

Finally washed and somewhat dressed, Mo sat down on the foot of one of the beds. The cushion under his rear was so delightful; his seagrass bed at his old grotto home could never compare to the comfort of this.

“Feel free to lie down,” Kent said as he lit a candle, the curtains now drawn, sunlight only peaking a hair through the crack. “It’s not quite a normal bedtime still being this early, but if you’re like me, I could go for an early night in.”

“Absolutely.” Mo underlined his statement with a nod. “After everything, I’m so fucking tired.”

Kent laughed. “I’ll go let Mrs Robinson know to not disturb us for the rest of the night, and I need to write a note to my father. I’ll be right back.”

While Kent put on his new breeches and left the room for a moment, Mo scooched backwards on the bed to adjust himself, wincing from the strain of his leg muscles, but eventually found a comfortable spot and rested his head on a pillow. Now lying flat on his back, he looked up at the wooden ceiling, shadows dancing along it as the candle flickered. Oh fuck , did this feel good. While the pain wasn’t ever fully gone, this bed surely counteracted much of it. He turned his head left and right, taking in the wonderful softness underneath him. Perhaps humans did have some sort of magic, if they were able to make such lovely fabrics as this.

Kent returned soon after, shutting the door, then pulled off his breeches but left his shirt on. “You don’t expect me to lay down in the second bed, do you? Give me some room,” he said playfully.

Mo chuckled, turning to his side and scooched back to give Kent space on his bed. “Why didn’t we just get a room with one bed, then, if the second one will go unused?”

Kent sat and tugged the blanket down, making Mo realize he was lying on top of it. He adjusted accordingly, and Kent hopped in next to him, pulling the blanket over their bodies. The bed wasn’t very big by any means, but was still large enough to where they could both lay comfortably if they were huddled close. To which, Mo wouldn’t have it any other way.

“If we requested a room with only one bed, it would raise questions as to why we’d want to lie next to each other,” said Kent, lying next to him and petting his hand along Mo’s arm under the covers. “Remember, humans are not usually kind toward couples of the same sex, and in fact can be quite hostile. So, we’ll need to keep the true nature of our relationship a secret, and be very careful how we go about things in public. Two men who are just friends wouldn’t sleep together in one bed unless there was no other option, you know.”

Mo sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But at least they won’t know we’re like this if we keep the door closed.”

“Exactly.” Kent smiled.

Mo put his hand on Kent’s waist as Kent shifted his legs, sliding his knee between Mo’s thighs. It felt so bizarre, having something large spreading his limbs like that, but it also felt rather comforting. The presence between his legs was none other than Kent, his beloved, and it made the magic within him soar.

“What will happen when we go back to your home?” asked Mo. “Will I be able to stay with you there?”

“Of course, absolutely.” Kent rubbed reassuring circles on Mo’s bicep with his thumb. “While Katherine knows the truth, I’ll have to tell father and the servants what we told Mrs Robinson here. You were shipwrecked along with me and since we became friends, I wanted to help you. You had nowhere left to go, and I wanted to support you, so I offered you to stay with me, help you find a new job, and get you back on your feet.”

“ Feet ? Get me back on my feet?” Mo chuckled.

“It’s an expression. But a rather fitting one now, if I do say so myself!” Kent burst into laughter. Oh , his sweet voice always made Mo’s chest flutter.

After the laughs died down and their breaths evened out, Mo mused about a subject that was lingering in his mind. “I wonder if I’ll still be able to use the Siren’s Song in my human form. Not that I’d actually use it, mind you, but, I just wonder.”

Kent shrugged, moving the blanket slightly as he did so. “I’m not sure. Have you heard stories of sirens becoming human?”

Mo was glad Kent didn’t doubt him when he said he wouldn’t use it and simply continued the conversation. The reignited trust filled his heart. “There was one tale I’ve heard throughout my life, and that was why I felt it wasn’t impossible for me to do so. But the story simply ended when the mer became human, and never told of the tale afterwards.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose that doesn’t help. But, like you said, you wouldn’t use the Song anyway, unless you had to, I suppose.”

“Let’s hope a situation where I would feel the need to use it never happens.”

Kent chuckled, rubbing his cheek into his pillow. “True, true.”

“Though, going back to what you said before, I suppose I would need some sort of job to make a living in the human realm. Did you have anything in mind?”

“Nothing in particular, no… Perhaps we could figure it out as it happens.”

“Yes, we could.” Mo smiled. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to paint, from seeing the beautiful human paintings that were leftover on sunken ships. If I perfect my skills, perhaps I could make commissions as an artist.”

“I don’t doubt you’d be amazing at it. Yes, I’d love to support you with that.”

Mo moved his hand up to caress Kent’s scruffy cheek. “I cannot tell you how excited I am to start this new life with you.”

“I can say the same. I wish to spend the rest of my days with you, together, by your side. No love has ever been, or ever will be greater than the one I have for you. I love you, Mo.”

Mo’s heart sang; the magic within him pulsed with a soothing, precious warmth. “I love you too, Kent. So much.”

Mo tilted his head forward, capturing Kent’s lips in a wonderful kiss.