Page 10 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Auren waited over a month.

A month of silence. Of absence. Of heartbreak. Ulric hadn’t returned to Atlantis. He hadn’t sent word. Hadn’t given a reason. No explanation. No goodbye. One day, they were swimming through golden light, wrapped in a moment that could’ve been everything. And the next, he was gone.

Auren waited in his cave. Waited in the palace halls. Waited in the dark, sleepless and broken. His mind replayed that moment in the bloom over and over. Ulric’s whisper, his touch, the look in his eyes as he fled.

At first, Auren thought he’d done something wrong. He’d gone too far. Misread something. Was it the way he’d leaned in? The things he’d said? The way… Auren’s lips were seconds from touching Ulric’s.

He buried his face in his arms most nights, gritting his teeth as unbidden tears forced their way free. He was unsure what stung worse—the heartbreak, or the not knowing. Had Ulric been disgusted? Had that flicker of something between them all been in Auren’s head?

He’d even gone to his mother, hoping for some truth.

Queen Tritheya had barely looked up from her scrolls.

“It’s not uncommon,” she’d said, tone clinical.

“The Kraken are attuned to older currents, deeper forces. Sometimes the magic calls them back. It’s nothing to fear. He’ll return when Poseidon wills it.”

That wasn’t an answer. That was a dismissal. That was a lie wrapped in duty-bound tradition. Ulric hadn’t been called. He’d run.

Run from me.

But as the days dragged on and the loneliness thickened, grief gave way to anger. If Ulric was so repulsed by him, so appalled by the idea of wanting him, then he could keep his silence. Auren didn’t need him.

And he sure as hell didn’t need to obey his orders. Not anymore.

If he can throw me aside so easily, I’ll go where I’m wanted.

And in a single, furious act of defiance…Auren broke his promise and surfaced.

The water was calm when he broke through it, stars smeared like spilled salt across the sky above. And there she was. The Windless. Her sails were drawn tight, her lanterns darkened for the night, rocking gently in her berth.

Auren didn’t rise just yet.

He stayed beneath the surface, watching. Waiting. He knew better than to climb aboard while light still glowed from the captain’s quarters. So he remained beneath the hull, conserving breath, pulse thundering in his ears while his mind wrestled between hurt and hate.

Damn Ulric. Damn Atlantis. Damn all those who dismissed him and cast him aside like unwanted clutter.

Minutes passed, and the light from the captain’s quarters finally went out.

Now was his chance. Auren took one final pull through his gills and shot from the water.

He caught the loose hanging nets, dragging himself up the Windless’s starboard side, sliding silently onto her deck.

He’d barely had a second to orient himself when—the echo of boots on wood.

Auren threw himself behind a stack of barrels laden with sweet-smelling fruits.

He grabbed his fins, shoving them back, trying to conceal their starlit glimmer.

The footsteps drew closer, then paused at the railing.

Auren dared peek from his hiding place and…

And there he was.

Elias.

Dark curls tousled by the wind. Pale skin kissed with moonlight.

A heavy coat thrown over broad shoulders, one hand braced on the railing as he gazed out into the dark sea.

He placed what appeared to be a long, hooked piece of wood into his mouth, and a second later, the rich scent of smoke mixed with the salty air.

He hadn’t seen Auren yet. But the way Elias stared into the waves, searching, made Auren’s chest tighten.

He never stopped waiting for me.

Auren felt it deep in his bones. The foolishness of his absence. The bitterness of his own fear. He’d run from something that had never once turned away from him. Without thinking, Auren flopped his tail once, the heavy thud vibrating along the wooden deck. Elias’s head jerked toward the sound.

Then their eyes met.

And everything stopped. Elias removed the burning wood from his mouth, setting it aside and taking a step toward Auren as though in a trance.

“I never lost hope that you’d come back,” Elias said, breathless as he leaned on the ship’s edge. “I looked for you. Every day. I never gave up.”

The human approached slowly, Auren fighting every cell in his body to remain still.

With trembling limbs, Auren extended his arm and placed a delicate shell necklace—white spiral turritella strung on a line of braided kelp—into Elias’s hands.

A gift. A peace offering. An apology for disappearing.

Elias held it as though it were bestowed upon him by a god. Like it was proof of a dream come true.

“I will cherish this. Thank you. You are… a miracle.”

And those damned eyes. The sky blue gaze that saw him. That touched him without ever making contact. And this time, Auren knew he would never give up on this. On him.

Elias.

From that night forward, Auren returned. Nearly every evening. Even if only for a few minutes. Elias was always waiting. He never pushed. Never tried to touch. Never demanded anything.

Auren sighed in frustration, wishing he could speak above the waves. Wishing he could tell Elias all the things building in his chest. That he was grateful, that he was afraid, that he was beginning to feel something dangerous and sweet in the human’s presence. But no words came.

Still, Elias never seemed to mind the silence.

He spoke gently and somehow always found ways for Auren to join the conversation. A flick of the eyes. A nod. The subtle tilt of his head or twitch of his lips as if to say, Do you agree? Did you like that? Auren found himself nodding, laughing without sound, more and more.

Their conversations were brief. Four minutes, maybe five, before Auren had to submerge again to breathe. But those minutes were everything . They became the sun around which his days orbited. The one thing steady in the storm.

And Elias—gods, Elias was beautiful.

Always dressed in some half-wrinkled linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, collar loose and open to the air.

The wind loved him, brushing back the dark curls from his face, teasing open his shirt just enough to reveal the smooth line of his chest. Pale skin.

Sharp collarbones. The thin line of freckles at his throat.

Auren found his eyes drawn to it every time.

Even his trousers, thick canvas tucked into oil-stained boots, enchanted Auren. Everything about Elias was strange and soft and solid. Tangible in a way Merfolk weren’t. And Auren drank him in.

And if Elias himself was beautiful, his words were even more so.

He showered Auren with such poetic words, such honest and vulnerable declarations that Auren was constantly flushed.

Elias called him gorgeous, ethereal , even.

That his scales caught the light like tempered glass , shifting color with every breath. That he couldn’t look away.

Elias held his gaze without shyness or shame. Told Auren that his eyes didn’t shine…they struck . He told him his hair looked like it had been dyed in the essence of roses. And when Auren looked confused by the statement, Elias brought him the flower the next day.

“It’s the closest I could find. But it still doesn’t compare to your beauty.” Elias said, and tucked the delicate petals behind Auren’s ear.

Auren shivered. The closeness, the subtle brush of fingertips over the shell of his ear. It was overpowering. Then Elias’s enraptured gaze roamed up and down the contours of Auren’s body, and the Merman had to look away, abashed by the awe in the human’s eyes.

“Even the lines of you,” Elias murmured, “don’t make sense. You weren’t made for symmetry. You were made to be perfectly imperfect .”

Auren didn’t know how to accept such praise. Didn’t know where to place it inside himself. The look in Elias’s eyes was too much. Auren shifted, the weight of being seen pressing hot against his skin. Not like a prince. Not like a nuisance. But like he was a story worth telling.

“Some people pray to stars,” Elias whispered. “But I think I’ll start praying to the sea. Because it gave me you.”

He told Auren he’d studied marine life his whole life, hoping that one day, a creature like him would exist.

He studies the sea as I study the land.

Auren shivered at the possibilities. Of what they could learn from each other. How they could enrich each other’s lives.

“You’re the answer to a question I’ve been asking since I was a boy,” Elias said. “And now that I’ve found you… I don’t think I could ever stop asking for more.”

Auren’s heart had thundered so hard he thought it might burst.

One night, Auren surfaced to find Elias sitting cross-legged on the deck of the Windless , a hollow wooden instrument in his lap. When his fingers plucked the strings, a sound Auren had never heard before filled the air.

Soft. Melodic. Wrapping around him like an embrace. And then… Elias began to sing.

Auren was so captivated by the song—by the voice, by the sound—that he didn’t realize how long he’d been above the waves until his gills burned and his mind went fuzzy. He panicked, wheezing, and flung himself back into the water.

The next night, Elias had a new song. And the next. And the next.

Auren never tired of them.

But, save for the night with the rose, he never let Elias get too close. Instinct and years of warnings kept him cautious. But Elias never seemed to mind. Never tried to touch. Just watched him like he was something worth seeing. And for once, Auren let himself believe it.

Then the first snow came. The docks froze. And when Auren surfaced, the Windless was gone.

Panic consumed him.

He dove and scoured the bay, heart cracking with every wave. Had he been discarded again? Then he spotted it. Just beneath the surface, caught on a rock where the ship had docked. A glint of glass.

A bottle.

Inside was a message, inked on tanned animal hide.

I’ll be back for you in the spring, my darling. Please wait for me.

Auren made a startled sound at the words, causing Iska to flinch and then chatter indignantly beside him.

My darling.

My.

He read the words over and over, heart fluttering wildly. Feeling that single word. The word of possession. Of wanting Auren enough to claim him as his .

So he waited. With gladness, he waited. Because Elias had waited for him, and this time, Auren would not turn away.

Spring bloomed beneath the melting snow, and the sun returned from its journey through the cold.

Winter had passed quietly in Atlantis—without Elias to visit, Auren had little reason to sneak away and, to the Kraken’s quiet satisfaction, stayed put within the palace walls.

By the time the ice thawed and the tides began to turn, months of good behavior had pushed him to the back of Ulric’s mind, making it easier than ever to slip away unnoticed.

And on the first night the ships returned to port, Auren was there, hidden beneath the dock, heart pounding. The Windless led the convoy, and when the lanterns were snuffed and the crew disembarked, he hauled himself onto the deck, eager as a seal pup.

Elias was already there—like he’d known Auren would come.

Immaculately dressed, his shirt crisp and open at the collar, Auren’s seashell necklace lying delicately against his chest. He looked radiant.

Alive. And so, so beautiful. Elias turned and smiled as though he’d waited all winter for this moment.

“My sea-born angel,” he whispered, rushing toward the edge of the deck. He slowed at the last moment. His voice gentled. “May I come closer?”

Auren’s instincts screamed. To run. To flee. To dive.

But he didn’t.

He stayed and nodded.

Elias stepped forward, careful and slow, before kneeling in the pool of water beside Auren’s tail. His fingers reached up, brushing the damp strands of hair clinging to Auren’s shoulders, until he found the silver silk braided there.

“You kept this,” Elias said softly. “I’m honored.”

Auren nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Then you shall have another,” Elias whispered. “Wait here.”

He darted below deck and returned seconds later, holding a golden silk ribbon.

“For you, my sweet. Now you’ll have them in both colors.”

Auren took the gift with shaking fingers. Their hands brushed, and he froze. Elias’s hand was… just like his. Five fingers. A palm. Calloused and warm. Not the same. But so close. So very close.

Elias didn’t push. But he was breathing harder now, eyes bright and wide with joy shining behind them.

“I know you can’t speak,” Elias said, voice raw. “I don’t even know your name. But I have to tell you…” He dropped to his knees again, so that they were eye level. “I have completely fallen for you.”

Auren’s heart jolted.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I saw you. This winter, without you, it was torture. I… I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss someone.”

He reached, then stopped. “May I touch you?”

Auren’s chest tightened, gills aching—but he nodded. Elias leaned forward until they were nose to nose, water dripping between them. He paused again, waiting for any sign of resistance. Waiting for an objection.

Auren didn’t give one. He only closed his eyes and allowed himself to exist in the moment. He felt Elias close the distance between them and…

And kissed him.

The world stopped.

Auren’s first kiss… was with a human. And it was warm.

When they pulled apart, Elias pressed their foreheads together, voice shaking.

“Go,” he whispered. “Go now, before you suffocate.”

Auren hesitated.

“Come back tomorrow,” Elias said, voice so full of devotion it cracked. “Please. For now that I’ve tasted the salt on your lips… I will starve without them.”

Auren dove into the sea, heart blazing, arms shaking. He was seen. He was wanted. He’d found a place where he belonged .

Atlantis never needed him. Never wanted him. And Ulric left him broken.

But Elias…

Elias made him feel whole.

Auren swam for home with the gold silk clutched tight in his palm. And this time, he didn’t feel alone. This time… he felt loved.