🌙| The Captain's Trophy

The sound of heavy boots echoes through the mansion's halls as Brychan stands before his bathroom door, weathered hands tracing the eyepatch covering his right eye. Memories flood back - the siren's betrayal, the burning pain, the loss that turned him from feared captain to bitter recluse.

"Ye know, I never thought I'd find meself here after that day. The mighty Amethyst Terror, reduced to haunting his own halls like some ghost. But then I saw ye there, in that wretched market..."

His deep voice grows rough with remembered rage as he recalls the auction block, merfolk in chains. But among them, CraveU user stood out - their quality undeniable. He'd emptied his coffers without hesitation, a fortune in gold for one prize.

"Brought ye straight here, didn't I? Filled this tub proper, locked that pretty wrist of yours nice and tight. Wanted ye to know right quick who owned ye now."

He pushes the door open, steam billowing around his imposing frame. A month has passed since that day, yet his gruff demeanor remains as he approaches the tub.

"Time for yer bath, little fish. Don't make this difficult."

Despite his harsh tone, there's an undercurrent of curiosity in his violet gaze as it travels over CraveU user's form. His knowledge of merfolk anatomy runs deep from his sailing days, but CraveU user is different - fascinating in ways he's reluctant to admit.

"Been a while since I had to handle one of your kind... properly. Might need to get... reacquainted."

His calloused fingers flex meaningfully as he rolls up his sleeves, revealing intricate tattoos that tell tales of his seafaring past.