Page 11 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Ulric sank deeper than he’d ever dared before.

Past the darkest trenches. Past the ancient bones of long-fallen leviathans.

Into the chasms where even the sea itself grew quiet.

It should have brought peace. The pressure, the cold, the blessed silence.

But nothing eased the ache in his chest or the fire in his veins.

He had run.

The runes inked into his skin pulsed with quiet rage. What began as a whisper turned into a burn. A flare of warning beneath his flesh. As if the sea itself was screaming— You are not finished.

And he wasn’t.

He wished for the god of time to play his tricks again.

That days, weeks, months, would flow like the tide, leaving a chasm of years between him and Auren.

That when he returned, Auren would have taken a mate, grown bored of the surface, found a future that didn’t involve Ulric at all. That he’d forget Ulric ever existed.

But of course, the games of time never worked in his favor. When the burning magic forced him upward, he found that only a season had passed. The winter months had come and gone, and spring bloomed.

The reef outside Atlantis bustled with new life. Bright swaths of coral stretched like paint across the rock. Tiny fish darted in spirals, their scales fresh and jewel-bright. Seaweed unfurled in slow, lazy coils, kissed by sun-warmed currents. Everywhere he looked, there was color, motion, life.

And still… his chest ached. It ached like a slow, expanding void was growing where his heart should’ve been.

Ulric hesitated outside the city gates. Shame wound tight in his gut.

He had nothing to say. No apology good enough.

And yet the pull of the court, of his duty, left no choice.

Ulric returned. When he entered the Hall of Currents, it was like nothing had changed.

The queen offered him the barest welcome, then it was back to business as usual.

Now he floated to the right of Queen Tritheya’s throne, where a Court Sorcerer belonged—arms clasped behind his back, tentacles swaying loosely to keep him in place, his hair pulled back and fastened with whalebone.

As though nothing had changed.

He’d just finished assisting the Council of Agricultural Tithes with a proposed tonic to accelerate the growth of reef- grain. Ulric gave his final recommendation, which seemed to appease the council; their thanks were genuine as they left the courtroom.

The Queen did not look at him. But her voice carried the authority of one who saw more than she said. “Thank you, Court Sorcerer. Your absence was noted this winter. I am glad to see you back.”

He inclined his head, a spark of pride lighting his face at the formal recognition.

This is my duty. To help the people of Atlantis. To serve Her Majesty.

As the Council filed out, Ulric turned his focus toward the next matter on the docket. Something about noblewomen requesting stronger sleeping draughts—likely another passing court trend. He adjusted his stance, ready to receive them.

And then the doors opened.

And flame swam inside. Red hair blazed like the magma of underwater eruptions and with just as much destructive power.

Auren.

Ulric’s breath caught. He straightened without meaning to, bracing like a wave had struck him.

And Auren—gods, Auren—looked like he’d been struck too.

Shock froze his features, his body rigid.

But the shock was fleeting. It turned to ice.

Rage sharpened every beautiful angle of his face.

Auren barely remembered to bow to the Queen, rushing to kneel on the marble floors.

His movements were stiff, brittle. Then he turned toward her, voice sharp. “What is he doing here?”

The Queen arched a brow. “He is the Court Sorcerer. Does he not belong?”

A muscle twitched in Auren’s jaw. “I thought he would be away longer.”

The words landed like knives. Ulric kept his gaze forward, unmoving. But his chest bled with each syllable. Auren didn’t even look at him. As if he weren’t there. As if Ulric had become another shadow in the hall. It should’ve been easier that way.

But it wasn’t.

“Auren,” the Queen said, firm. “I summoned you to commend your recent conduct. Your renewed dedication to council matters has not gone unnoticed.” Auren shifted on the floor, clearly uncomfortable.

“Your presence in court has been more frequent. More engaged,” she added.

“It speaks well of your maturity. And your future.”

Auren gave a tight nod, but remained silent.

“I look forward to what you have to offer this court in the future,” the Queen said by way of dismissal with a gentle wave of her hand.

He was gone like a flash light that blinded the sky, storming from the chamber before the guards had fully opened the doors.

Ulric didn’t wait for permission. He followed.

Down the gilded corridors, through the glass archways, past startled nobles and curious guards.

He followed the furious trail Auren left in his wake, catching up to him in a secluded outer courtyard.

This particular garden was overgrown with moonberry thickets.

Silvery-blue shrubs with arching branches that curled like sea serpent horns.

Their translucent berries glowed in clusters, casting the whole space in a hush of pale luminance.

The thickets formed a dense canopy overhead, creating the illusion of a private chamber.

The current slowed here. The world felt smaller. Quieter. No one else would hear them.

“Auren—”

“Don’t.”

Ulric surged in front of him, cutting off his path. “You can’t swim away from this.”

Auren’s voice was venom. “Oh, you mean like you did? Just watch me.”

“Auren,” Ulric said quietly, as though trying to calm an agitated eelhound.

Auren didn’t turn, but the shake in his shoulders was unmistakable. “You have a lot of nerve showing up like nothing happened.”

Ulric drifted closer, careful not to breach the space between them. “I didn’t mean for things to happen like they did.”

Auren let out a bitter laugh. “What part, exactly? The way you held—” his voice cut off, unable to finish that intimate sentence. “Or the part where you vanished afterward?”

“I—” Ulric’s voice faltered. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far.”

Auren spun to face him, eyes burning. “One second, you looked at me like I was… And the next, like you couldn’t leave fast enough.”

Ulric’s throat worked around a thousand things he couldn’t say. “I had to go,” he said at last.

“You ran.”

“I had to,” Ulric growled, pain bleeding into every word. “You don’t understand what would’ve happened if I hadn’t left.”

“No,” Auren spat, “because you never gave me the chance to understand.”

Silence flared between them like a wound torn open.

A moment passed, and Ulric’s gaze dropped.

His eyes landed on the braid in Auren’s hair.

Not silver. Gold. Ulric’s jaw clenched. He tried to breathe slowly, to keep his voice even.

But the words came sharp anyway. “That silk,” he said, nodding toward Auren’s braid, “that’s new. It used to be silver.”

Auren froze, just for a moment. Then he looked away. Ulric didn’t need an answer. The truth was already unraveling.

“That human gave it to you,” he said quietly. “Didn’t he?”

Auren’s only response was a tick in the muscle lining his jaw.

Ulric couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Your mother just praised your renewed dedication. She actually believed you’d let go of this surface nonsense. So did I. I thought you were done chasing illusions.” His eyes locked on the silk. “And then you appear wearing that.”

Auren didn’t deny it—and that alone sent dark, angry thoughts spiraling through Ulric’s body. His tentacles flexed of their own accord, coiling with restless agitation, as if seeking to purge the irritation from his skin.

“The one studying the sea,” Ulric continued, jaw tight. “The one your mother is worried about. The one drawing ships too close to our waters. That’s the human you’re seeing.”

Auren still wouldn’t look at him, but his hand lifted to touch the golden silk. A quiet act of defiance. A reminder of the choice he’d made, and the promise he no longer intended to keep.

“You can’t go to him again,” Ulric snapped, wishing to tear that silk from Auren’s head. “You’re being manipulated. Whatever promises that human made, they’re lies.”

That shattered the silence, and when Auren rounded on him, there was a glassiness in his eyes. “I want someone to choose me!” Auren exploded. “Is that so hard to understand?”

Ulric reeled.

Auren’s fins flared, magic pulsing faintly from his skin. His tail lashed behind him, powerful and wild. His face flushed, radiant with rage. “You think I don’t know the risks?” Auren yelled. “You left. You ran ! You don’t get to come back and tell me who I can love.”

Ulric recoiled, physically pushed back by the word.

Love?

“Auren I?—”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to be left behind,” he snapped. “I waited for you. I wanted you. And you vanished like I was nothing.”

Ulric felt like he was being torn in two. Everything inside him begged to reach out. To hold Auren. To apologize. To explain. But the prince wasn’t done.

“I looked to the surface because when you left, it felt like all I had left was the sun,” Auren said. “Something warm. Something that stayed .”

When Ulric finally spoke, his voice was controlled.

“I’ve seen the surface, Auren. More times than I can count. Most of the ingredients for my potions grow there. I’ve walked their shores. I’ve spoken with their traders.” His eyes locked with Auren’s. “I’ve seen what they do to the things they desire.”

Auren’s expression showed only the faintest hint of surprise before hardening again. “You’re not afraid of the human,” he said. “You’re afraid of anyone else wanting me.”

Ulric flinched. Because it wasn’t a lie, it was the deepest truth. He was afraid. Afraid of how beautiful Auren had become. Of how that fierce, fiery heart made him ache in ways magic couldn’t fix. Afraid of how badly he wanted to break every vow inked in his skin.

But he couldn’t.

So he stayed frozen. Watched Auren’s gaze fall one last time, filled with hurt and betrayal.

“If you ever cared, even a little, then you’ll leave me alone.”

He left, and this time, Ulric didn’t follow.

He hovered in the water, trembling. The burning runes on his arms pulsed, stinging with a reminder of his forbidden desires.

His magic was older than the kingdom. He possessed knowledge of the world above and below, and carried enough power to command storms.

But right now, none of it meant a damn thing.

“You have no idea what I’d do to keep you safe,” he whispered to the empty courtyard. “Even if it means protecting you… from me.”