Page 33 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Auren woke to the stuffy hush of morning.

Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet drapes in thin, glowing bands, cutting across the haze of the theater.

Dust motes floated in the still air, dancing lazily in the beams. Somewhere nearby, a curtain rustled.

Bare feet padded against plush carpet. A few low groans echoed as other couples began to stir from their nest of scattered cushions, some laughing sleepily, others wincing with the weight of the previous night still aching in their bones.

Nobody had come to kick them out last night.

No announcement that the theater was closing, leaving the inhabitants to succumb to the debauchery of the night.

Auren blinked, his head fuzzy, his limbs heavy and sore.

He lay on a nest of fine silk pillows and padded mats, the luxurious kind.

His whole body ached in places he hadn’t known could ache.

His thighs burned. His hips throbbed. His cock was sore in the best, most exhausted way imaginable.

And his ass—well, there were bruises there that would sing for the rest of the day. He tried to roll over and winced.

Nope. That’s not happening.

He chuckled to himself as the early light cut through the lingering scent of sweat and moth-eaten curtains.

So it was a slumber party, he thought hazily.

Only this one lasted late into the night, with bodies tangled in every shadowed corner and pleasure spreading like wildfire with every pluck of the violin.

He and Ulric lost themselves in each other twice more after the performance ended, wrapped in the heat of their private alcove, their limbs entwined as if they might never separate.

The velvet curtains muffled the sound, but the rest of the theater had turned into a chorus of moans and murmurs, sighs and screams. Their hosts, Auren suspected, were under no illusions about what kind of guests they were housing.

At some point, during a lull between kisses and whispered words, a gentle knock interrupted them.

Auren cracked open the door and found a wash basin, fresh towels, and a folded cloth left respectfully outside.

Even now, he could hear the faint bustle of theater staff beyond the curtains—servants ferrying clean linens and trays of sweet breakfast rolls to other guests. The quiet sound of plates clinking. Murmured greetings. Warm, practiced hospitality.

This must cost a fortune, Auren mused, still lying there half-numb.

Not only for the accommodations, but also for the discretion. Auren didn’t know much about human society, but he assumed that only the noblest of them could afford such a night, and they wouldn’t want word of their proclivities widely known.

And Ulric is among them.

He remembered the way Ulric had been addressed, “Lord.” The title meant something here. Auren wanted to know how Ulric had come by it. How much of himself he’d integrated into human society. He wanted to know it all, but mostly, he wanted Ulric to be the one teaching him.

Ulric lay behind him, one arm slung across his waist, their legs tangled beneath the covers. His face was tucked into the curve of Auren’s shoulder, as if he’d been trying to breathe him in during the night. His hair was a wild tangle, and his breath stirred the skin at Auren’s neck.

But something was off. As Auren blinked into clearer focus, he felt it—the irregularity of air. Ulric’s breath wasn’t right.

Too shallow.

Auren frowned. He shifted, easing out from under the weight of Ulric’s arm.

The sorcerer didn’t move, his arm flopping lifelessly to the blankets.

When Auren rose on one elbow, the light fell across Ulric’s face—and dread pooled in his stomach like acid.

The Kraken’s skin was pale. Not his usual shadowed warmth, but paper-thin and grey-blue at the edges. Almost translucent. His lips were parted and slightly purple.

“Ulric?” Auren whispered.

No response.

Auren grabbed his shoulder, shaking him roughly. “Hey, Ulric.”

At last, Ulric stirred. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking like a man waking from a long, heavy dream. He tried to sit up and winced.

Auren caught him before his head lolled into the leg of an ottoman.

“Don’t move too fast,” Auren said, heart thudding.

“I’m fine,” Ulric muttered hoarsely.

“You’re full of shit,” Auren replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

That earned a faint smirk. “Language, your highness.”

“You’re paler than sunbleached wood,” Auren said, not bothering to keep the worry from his voice this time. “We’re going back to the cabin. You need your tonics.”

Auren cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Ulric was hanging onto this human shape by a thread, drinking the tonics almost every hour. Of course, since they hadn’t known they would be staying the night, Ulric hadn’t brought enough. He’d gone too long without a dose.

Ulric waved him off. “I just need to sit up. Maybe drink something.”

He tried to stand, legs unsteady beneath him, but even the simple act of reaching for his trousers proved too much.

Auren saw the last hint of color drain from Ulric’s face—just a moment before he collapsed.

Auren ducked under his arm, catching his weight and holding him upright until the dizziness passed.

“It’s… fine,” Ulric said, though he sounded half-conscious as he said it.

“Sit your ass down, I’ll help you then we’re getting the hell outta here,” Auren said, not bothering to hide the worry and frustration from his voice.

He dressed Ulric, with little to no protest from the old Sorcerer, which scared Auren half to death. A fully well Ulric would never have let his prince kneel and lace up his boots.

He’s falling apart.

“Let’s go,” he whispered as they exited the theater. “Lean on me.”

And Ulric, who never leaned on anyone, didn’t argue.

The streets were bustling with midmorning trade. Merchants shouted over one another from crowded stalls, and the scent of fresh bread filled the air. Children darted between carts. Baskets swung from arms. Wheels clattered over uneven stones.

Auren worried the press of bodies would jostle Ulric, that even the smallest bump might send him to his knees.

But somehow, they weren’t touched.

It was as though Ulric’s frailty cast a ward around them—people gave them a wide berth, glancing sidelong as they passed, whispering behind cupped hands. Whether it was the inky tattoos that now faded along Ulric’s arms or the ghost-white pallor of his skin, Auren didn’t know.

He tightened his hold and kept walking.

Ulric leaned into him, more than Auren expected.

He felt the drag of the Kraken’s weight in every step.

His body felt… empty, somehow. He was heavy, yes, but not as heavy as he should have been.

It was like his bones were hollow. He seemed to lack any substance at all—and the thought unnerved Auren.

Just last night, Ulric felt solid as stone, unshakable as the seafloor.

And now… he was a pale wisp, barely able to hold his own weight.

Auren tightened his hold.

It took twice as long as usual, but when they finally arrived at the cabin, Auren let out a sigh of relief.

He helped Ulric to the edge of the bed and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

The room was warm, almost uncomfortably so, with the noonday sun beating at the walls, but Ulric shivered like a man standing waist-deep in snow.

“Where are your tonics?” Auren asked, already opening cabinets.

“Green bottle,” Ulric rasped. “Middle shelf. Smells like mint.”

Auren found it, uncorked it, and held the vial to Ulric’s lips. He drank with effort, grimacing at the taste, but some color returned to his face shortly after. His breathing evened. The tremble in his hands stopped. Not gone entirely—but enough.

“Better?” Auren asked, crouching before him.

Ulric nodded, running a hand down Auren’s cheek. “You’re wasted on me.”

“Don’t you dare,” Auren snapped. “You don’t get to say dramatic things while looking like death warmed over.”

Ulric chuckled hoarsely. “You’re not as soft as you look.”

“And you’re not as strong as you pretend.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. No more jokes. Just breath and bone and truth in the space between them. Finally, Auren spoke the words eating away at him from the first moment he saw Ulric’s strength falter.

“Ulric… please. You can’t keep going like this.

Let’s return to Atlantis. Get your strength back.

Get your magic back. We —I can talk to my mother.

I can talk to the courts; they’ll listen…

about us.” He placed a begging hand on Ulric’s knee.

“I don’t want to go. You know I don’t. But I can’t stand by and watch you make yourself sick over this. ”

When Ulric didn’t respond, Auren’s confidence grew; maybe he was getting through to him.

“The courts will see that, we—that this won’t affect our duties.

You’re still Court Sorcerer, and I am still the prince.

Our responsibilities won’t change. We can help each other.

” Auren added hopefully, but Ulric still wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Then, when things settle, we can come back here. We can make trips to the surface whenever we want. You can teach me more about this world and…” Auren gulped. “We can be together.”

Ulric’s large hand clasped over his, squeezing it. When he looked up, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“Let me rest awhile. Then I would like to walk with you along the sand. Would you grant me that request, my prince?”

“Of course. Anything.” Auren said right away, not liking how Ulric’s voice had changed. There was sadness, and Auren was desperately looking for its source so he could banish it from this world.

They settled into the bed together, curtains drawn to block the sun, and held one another. Ulric fell into a fitful sleep right away, but Auren couldn’t do it. Instead, he lay there, stroking lazy circles through the hair along Ulric’s chest, worry knotting his insides.

The sand was cool beneath their feet. Ulric had slept most of the day, and even still, he looked exhausted. The tide receded, leaving behind glistening ribbons of seaweed. They walked slowly, side by side. Auren kept glancing sideways at Ulric.

“You alright?” Auren asked.

Ulric nodded. “I am fine, spriteling.” He tried for a teasing tone, but it fell flat.

Auren rounded on him, planting his feet in the sand with a determined glare.

“Enough, Ulric. You have to tell me what’s going on. Is it the drain on your magic? Is that what’s happening? Then why am I not sick? What in Poseidon’s sea is going on?”

He didn’t mean for his voice to rise, but it had.

“I can’t… keep watching you do this to yourself… for me.”

Ulric let out an exhausted sigh.

“Holding this shape is… difficult for me right now.” He admitted.

“And me?”

“I’ve been… helping you in that regard as well.”

Auren’s stomach sank. He knew it. So Ulric was using his precious strength to hold them both in this form.

“And you refuse to return to Atlantis because of what my mother would say? C’mon, Ulric, you can’t expect me to believe that. I know you. You might be her Sorcerer, but you’ve always swum by your own currents. What’s really going on?”

Even as he asked it, he didn’t know if he was ready to hear the answer. Ready to pop this utopic bubble they’d lived in these past few weeks.

Ulric didn’t respond with words, but with a pleading look. A look begging Auren not to ask him that exact question.

“Sit with me,” Ulric said, and whether he wanted to talk or because he could no longer bring himself to stand, he settled himself in the sand. Auren sat beside him, leaning his head on Ulric’s shoulder without putting too much of his weight there.

“I can convince the courts, Ulric… and even if I can’t, then— I’d run away with you,” Auren said in a whisper, but by the hitch in the Kraken’s breath, he knew Ulric had heard him.

The Kraken exhaled, the sound low and rough, like something being dragged from the deep. He didn’t look at Auren when he spoke.

“I thought I could carry it,” he said, voice strained. “Bury it. Bear it alone without allowing it to burden your shoulders. But after everything…” He finally turned, meeting Auren’s gaze. “I can’t.”

Auren searched those endless obsidian eyes.

Ulric leaned closer, his voice mixing with the song of crashing waves.

“I need you to know,” he said. “Before anything else happens… that I’m in love with you.”

Auren’s throat tightened. His first instinct was joy. Then terror.

Because Ulric didn’t say things like that.

Not unless he thought there wasn’t time to say it again.

Auren swallowed hard. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He reached out, cupped Ulric’s cheek, and felt the faint warmth of him beneath his palm.

A stinging invaded his eyes, and he hated it for blackening this moment.

But there was something here with them—something dark and lurking, ready to snatch this moment away, and Auren felt like he was fighting it blind.

“But why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Ulric gave a soft, bitter smile. “Because I don’t know what tomorrow holds.”

“Don’t,” Auren said sharply. “Don’t say that. I won’t let them tear us apart, Ulric. No matter what Atlantis has to say, I’ll be here. By your side.”

“I know,” Ulric said, leaning into his touch. “But I had to tell you… just in case.”

He took Auren’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll fight for every breath,” he whispered. “But if anything happens… I need to know you heard me say it.”

Auren’s heart cracked down the center.

He pulled Ulric close, arms tight around his back, burying his face in the hollow of his neck. The ocean breathed for them. The wind curled their hair. They held one another in the hush between night and morning, hearts pressed tight, souls opened like wounds.

They returned to the cabin as dawn began to warm the sky.

Ulric fell into bed with a tired groan, and Auren crawled in after him, tucking himself into the crook of Ulric’s body. The Kraken’s arm wrapped around him automatically.

Auren stared at the wooden wall, eyes wide, body still trembling with unspoken fear.

This was love. It was comfort and heat and belonging. It was the one place he’d ever felt truly at home.

And it terrified him.

Because people didn’t say things like Ulric had said unless they were preparing to disappear.

Please, Auren thought, gripping Ulric’s hand tightly in the dark. Please don’t go.

As his eyes drifted shut, he caught the faint shimmer of ink vanishing—another of Ulric’s tattoos dissolving, leaving the skin bare.

Ulric was fading.

Auren closed his eyes.

And fell asleep in the arms of the man he loved, terrified it might be the last time.