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Summary
Merfolk tend to be terribly offended if you call them “sirens” - how dare you. No, they protest, they’ve never drowned an idiot landwalker in their lives. They’re perfectly upswimming, reasonable citizens who only eat fish and perhaps the odd whelk, if it’s been a slow day.
Astarion isn’t one of those good citizens. The difference between a merman and a siren is sharp fangs, the distinct lack of a heartbeat, and a taste for blood. That and the whole singing thing.
A slightly post-canon AU in which Astarion is still flirting desperately, trying to escape his master, and good with a blade. He just happens to have a tail. And a sea-devil sniffing around him for a deal.
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