Chapter Text
To say Bill had bad luck would be a gruesome understatement. It would be like declaring that a dip in the ocean would make you just a bit damp. Bill Cipher was the scourge of the sea and everyone knew it. He supposed that karma would catch up to him eventually, he was just surprised it had been so soon. As fate would have it no other way it was his crew that decided to turn on him. Perhaps not his whole crew, but one dividual in particular. His first mate and inconsequentially a man with a penchant for power. The little twat was also a backstabbing midget as it turned out. Bill figured he had it coming, he’d gotten cocky and therefore clumsy. Letting his guard down just enough to be overthrown through mutiny. The little snake had a charming enough tongue to convince a good portion of his crew to turn on him. The rest of them followed in fear of death.
This left Bill tied to the mast of his own ship in the crow’s nest. Ironic to everyone but Bill, to him it was just idiotic. The weasel had been planning his betrayal for a while, if the large cannon loaded ship currently blasting his own to oblivion was any indication. If Bill wasn’t gagged he’d have yelled obscenities at his traitorous crew. He’d hand picked the lot of them, taken them in and made sure they had a chance at fortune and fame. Perhaps he’d taught them too well. He’d always said never to turn your back and to strike when your target was least aware. If only he could follow his own advice.
The water was slowly rising to meet him, Bill wished it would just hurry up. He hated this. Out of all the ways he could die it had to be the way that unnerved him the most. Ever since he was young growing up on the cusps of the ocean, Bill was afraid of drowning. Odd as it seemed to everyone who ever came to discover this, but it was true. The father he’d never known was lost to the waters. His mother since then had always warned him of the ocean. She too was lost to a storm the following year. Bill had only been a child of seven at the time.
Loud plops indicated the loss of air in the ship as it began sinking faster into the ocean. The weight of the water pulling it beneath the surface. Bill took one final gulp of air before the water closed in over his head. Cold and biting the water rocked around the pirate. Air bubbles rose passed him as it continued to sink. Gritting his teeth he pleaded to whatever deity that might be listening to send something to either save him or end him fast and mercifully.
His chest began to ache, his body screaming for a breath. He figured he may as well just swallow water. A sailor had once told him that drowning was a cruel demise, worse than hanging. With hanging, you could break your neck. If the gallows were kind enough they would weigh the convicted down with bricks. Drowning, however, could not be sped up. It all depended on how long one could hold their breath. Whether the person passed out from the lack of oxygen, or their lungs filled with fluid in their final waking moments.
Something cold caressed the cheek of the former pirate captain. His eyes shot open, stinging in the salty waters. The sight that met his eyes would have taken his breath away, if he had any. The glow emanating from the being before him lit up the waters around him. Pulling away from the pirate the figure gave him a curious look. Bubbles continued to rise passed them to the surface. Bill’s head pounded, his vision blurring.
A blurred hand reached to him and removed the gag. Bill opened his mouth in a mock scream, mentally begging for this creature to kill him. He was too far from the surface to survive now. He was going to die, that was certain, but he wanted to die by the hand of an angel of the ocean. The light moved as the creature grew closer. Bill felt his binds slacken and float away from him, the mast of the ship sinking faster than him. He screwed his eyes shut, if he could cry under water he would be. His tears mixing with the cruel ocean.
Cold hands gripped his face encouraging his eyes to open again. His vision was no longer in focus, blurred and growing dark. The light in his vision increased as the creature appeared to inspect him. Soft cold flesh pressed against his lips. It took his oxygen depraved mind a moment to process what was happening. This vision of the sea was granting him a final gift. The hands holding his face fell to the pirate’s shoulders. Bill moved his hands to the figure’s hips.
He didn’t know who broke away first, but he felt the siren—surely that’s what this angel was—move their head as if to rest it at the crook of Bill’s neck. Instead he heard an intake of water, as one would take a breath.
“Breathe. You will not die if you breathe,” the voice of this creature was evidently male. Light and smooth.
Bill did as he was told, why wouldn’t he when this man’s voice was so kind and gentle? Blinking and breathing were easier this time around, the ache in Bill’s chest dissipated as his vision cleared. Chocolate brown eyes met his own pale blues. The siren’s cold hands drifted into the pirate’s hair as his eyes studied Bill’s face.
“I’ve never met a human. Are you all so pretty?” he asked in a light tone.
Bill let out a short laugh, pretty? “Is this an attempt at flattery? I’m pretty sure you already hold my fate in your hands.” Bill was surprised he was able to understand what was being said underwater, let alone respond in kind.
The siren chuckled, it sounded like seashell windchimes he and his mother used to make. Bill shivered. The siren’s wandering eyes jumped back up to Bill’s. Their eyes were alight with intrigue.
“You’re cold?” he asked.
“Yes, the water is very cold,” Bill answered.
“But you’re warm,” the siren stated.
“All the more reason to feel cold.”
“I see… We’ll need to fix that,” the siren nodded.
Before Bill could ask what he meant the siren flipped around and circled the pirate once before grabbing him by his arm and flicking his tail. Water rushed around them as they picked up speed. The siren’s undulating tail directing them in a downward angle. Bill used his free arm to reach over and hold onto the siren’s hands that gripped his arm. The light from the surface dimmed further, leaving the siren’s bi-luminescent figure to light the way.