Page 24 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Auren was well enough to walk now.

He moved slower than he used to, still favoring the side of his body where the wounds hadn’t cut as deeply. But the light returned to his eyes. That fire. That insatiable spark of curiosity Ulric feared the humans had smothered for good.

But no. It was still there.

Just that morning, Ulric found him wandering the beach, crouched in the sand with his head tilted, marveling at a rusted, two-pronged cultivator.

The curved tines, twisted from time and salt, glinted in the sun like the bones of some strange creature.

Auren ran his fingers along the wooden handle, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Is it a weapon?” he asked, half in awe. “Or… for combing the earth?”

“The latter. For loosening soil to help things grow.”

Auren hummed, visibly turning over the idea. “So even humans make tools for coaxing life from the ground. Interesting.”

Auren twisted the metal prong in his hands without really seeing it. His mind was elsewhere, and by the haunted look in his eyes, Ulric could guess where it had gone.

“What happened?” Auren asked.

Ulric tilted his head, brows knitting together.

Auren took a shuddering breath. “To him. To Elias. I... I don’t remember much.”

Of course, he didn’t. He’d been so tightly wrapped in death’s embrace that Ulric had to pry those cold, dead fingers from his skin. He barely got Auren back.

“Do you want to know the answer?” Ulric asked, his voice low.

Auren flinched. “I guess I just want to know… if he… if I’m…”

“You’re safe,” Ulric said with certainty. “He is gone, my prince. But again, I ask you not to force me to reveal the manner in which he departed this world.”

Auren nodded, understanding. And even though he was still visibly shaken, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He didn’t have to worry about that monster touching him ever again.

He resumed his exploration of the beach, a lightness returning to his steps.

Auren was still Auren. Still hungry for knowledge and full of wonder.

Still made of mischief and magic, held together by sheer stubbornness.

The horrors he’d endured hadn’t broken him.

And Ulric, who had stood witness to every battle in the sea, every storm, every sacred rite, felt small in the face of it.

So Ulric answered him without hesitation. Every question Auren asked, he met with truth. He would hide nothing anymore. Not what he’d seen. Not what he knew. For what little time he had left in this realm… he would give Auren everything.

A pit sank in his stomach, but Ulric brushed it away—not when this beautiful man stood before him with shining eyes and red hair whipping in the wind.

For all the time I have left… I am yours.

Ulric dressed Auren in a simple tunic and soft, worn trousers. Plain but dignified, the kind of thing a man might wear on a festival day. Auren looked oddly princely in it, even with the hem rolled up at the ankles and his hair still messy from the wind.

“You’re taller than most humans,” Ulric noted as he adjusted the collar.

Auren smirked. “I suppose then that must make you a giant.”

“Maybe that is why I’ve never been mugged before,” Ulric said, lips quirked. He was a good head taller than Auren, who wasn’t a small man by any measure.

No—Auren was anything but small.

Even in his human form, his body bore the unmistakable marks of excellence.

The grace of a swimmer combined with the strength of a fighter.

Not the bulky build of a warrior, but something more fluid, sleek, and agile.

Auren’s shoulders rolled with quiet command, his torso tapering to a narrow waist. His thighs, powerful from a lifetime of pushing through the ocean’s weight, now filled out his pants in a way that drove Ulric mad.

The tunic Auren wore clung in places where he was more defined. It outlined the planes of his chest, clinging to each curve of sinew and skin. When he moved, the fabric shifted with him, revealing flashes of hip bone, the contours of his abdomen, and the hollow where neck met shoulder.

And Ulric, damn him, saw it all.

He was painfully aware of how the sun painted gold into Auren’s red hair, how it caught in the delicate curve of his jaw, the proud line of his throat. His lips—always expressive, always ready with a cutting remark—seemed perpetually kiss-bruised.

The prince walked at Ulric’s side with a kind of ease that came from knowing someone as long as they had.

Laughing. Pointing. Looking up at the world with bright, curious eyes as though he hadn’t been caged and broken only days before.

There was still light in him. And Ulric wanted to press it to his chest and keep it there, safe, even as desire twisted molten through his veins.

He tried to be decent. Tried not to stare too long at the way Auren’s shirt dipped at the collar, revealing the slope of collarbones he ached to kiss. He tried not to let his gaze drag down the lines of Auren’s back or linger on the faint dip of his spine when he bent to examine something.

But it was impossible.

Because Auren—flushed from excitement, sunlight glossing his skin, breathless with joy—was the most beautiful thing Ulric had ever seen.

And all Ulric could think was: Don’t push. Don’t ruin this. Don’t be greedy.

Not when Auren had just come back to life.

Not when he was here, laughing at Ulric’s side, walking through a world he never thought he’d get to touch.

Ulric curled his fists at his sides and breathed through the ache. He didn’t know how much time he had. But he would not spend it chasing pleasure at the expense of Auren’s peace. Not now. Not ever.

Still, every time Auren leaned into him, brushing their shoulders, grinning at some new delight, wide-eyed and radiant, Ulric’s restraint burned a little more.

And gods help him… he didn’t want to stop burning.

They went into town together, Auren beside him, walking freely on legs that had once been tail. Ulric kept a half-step behind him at first, watching. Ready, in case the crowds overwhelmed him. But Auren surprised him again.

He didn’t shrink back. He leaned in.

The scents were the first to hit—roasted nuts, grilled meat, something sugary and fried, thick with spice.

The whole world smelled like indulgence.

Rich oils and fresh bread, flower garlands drying in the sun, tobacco from the pipes of lounging old men who tipped their hats in Ulric’s direction with vague familiarity.

The colors dazzled next. Canopies stretched between wooden beams, bright fruit piled high in woven baskets, painted signs swinging in the breeze. Children darted past, laughing, shrieking. Someone played a fiddle near the bakery. Auren’s mouth parted, his eyes wide and tracking every detail.

And then?—

“Ulric!” Auren shouted so suddenly that Ulric’s hand was halfway to his belt when Auren tugged at his tunic in frantic excitement. “Ulric, look! Look over there! Do you see it? Do you think we can get closer?”

It was a horse.

A broad-chested bay with a thick black mane and white-blazed nose came striding past them at the edge of a small paddock.

Ulric smiled. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

Auren nodded too quickly, excitement buzzing like someone meeting a beloved celebrity. Ulric couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

He’s so damned cute.

“Wait here.”

Ulric approached the rider, spoke briefly, and passed him a coin. The man dismounted and handed over the reins. When he returned, Auren was in full-blown jitters.

“His name is Casco,” Ulric said, holding the reins. “His owner says he’s gentle. We have the pleasure of his company for a few minutes.”

Auren stared in awe. “He’s beautiful.”

Ulric watched as Auren stepped close, one hand out. Casco snorted, nudged his palm, and Auren laughed—a delighted, wind-chime sound. He ran his hand over the horse’s muzzle.

“It’s softer than I expected,” Auren said in wonder.

“Would you like to ride him?”

“Can I?”

“Of course,” Ulric said. Auren hesitated for a moment before nodding sheepishly.

Ulric didn’t give him the reins—he wasn’t suicidal—but he helped Auren into the saddle, hands firm at his waist. Auren was warm beneath his hands, soft in places, but still lean and strong. When he was seated, Ulric led Casco in slow circles around the paddock.

Auren spoke to the horse as if it were an old friend.

“You’re so strong. Do you know that?” he whispered. “Your eyes are like glass. You understand everything, don’t you? I bet you and Iska would be friends.”

Ulric watched, his chest aching with feelings both sharp and sweet.

By the time they returned the horse, Auren’s face was flushed with contentment.

“That was incredible.”

“There’s more to see. Would you like me to show you?” Ulric offered.

“Yes,” Auren said instantly. “All of it.”

So Ulric took him to the food stalls, guiding him with one hand on his back.

He kept it to light, fleeting touches. He guided Auren to foods he would likely enjoy—shellfish grilled in lemon and herbs, and sweet cakes made with black currant syrup.

They sat on a warm stone wall and ate with their fingers, and Auren made small, delighted sounds at every new bite.

“This one,” he said, holding up a dumpling. “This tastes like seafoam.”

Ulric chuckled. “You always did have a poetic palate.”

Auren popped the rest into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “No, really. It’s light. A little salty. Like… the bubbles that cling to your lips after diving too fast.”

Ulric arched a brow. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

Auren grinned. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Ulric shook his head. “Remind me never to cook for you. I’m not sure my pride could survive the verdict.”

Auren stuck his tongue out at him.

“You better put that away, or I’ll put it to work.”

And Ulric couldn’t help but chuckle deep in his chest at how quickly Auren’s cheeks matched his hair.

They wandered on. Near the center of town stood a tavern, and Ulric was about to suggest they enter when he noticed the way Auren tensed.

His steps slowed, and his lips pressed thin.

Without a word, Ulric changed course. He led him instead to the open-air pavilion, where musicians and acrobats were setting up to perform under the stars.

It was a wise choice.

Auren’s delight returned in full force. He clapped quietly for jugglers. Laughed aloud at a child doing handstands. And when a group of dancers rode past on horses wearing jingling ribbons and embroidered blankets, Auren looked like he might cry from joy.

Ulric didn’t care if anyone stared. He was too busy watching Auren glow.

The performance concluded with a musical number, a love song that filled the twilight air with a poignant feeling. The lyrics were brazen, full of longing and heated devotion. The words were unapologetic, suggestive even. Ulric glanced over. Auren was blushing.

“You don’t hear words like that in the hymns of Atlantis,” Ulric commented.

“No. I suppose you don’t,” Auren said, then added, “But I like it.”

Ulric’s heart stuttered. He reached down, gently taking Auren’s hand.

“Would you like to go home?”Auren made a disconcerted face, and Ulric added, “I promise to bring you back as many times as you want. But let’s rest for today.”

Reassured, Auren nodded, his heavy lids betraying his weariness.

They walked through the cooling streets, hand in hand, and all Ulric could think about was the way Auren’s fingers fit in his.

He didn’t know how long he had. He didn’t know what the next day would bring.

But Auren was beside him, smiling, alive.

And for now, that was enough.

Even if his thoughts couldn’t stop circling back to the kiss. To how Auren had tasted. To how much more he wanted. How his body ached to press closer, to ask for more?—

But he wouldn’t.

Not tonight.

Because the most beautiful creature he had ever known was still learning how to live again. Still healing. And Ulric would not ruin that by being greedy.

So he walked on, beside his not-quite lover, carrying a hunger in his chest as vast as the sea.

And somehow, it felt like joy.