Page 34 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Ulric awoke to the sound of gulls and the hot breeze of an open window.

His limbs felt heavy, and each breath was harder than the last, like treading water for hours.

He breathed deeply, expecting the salty smell of the sea, but there was none.

No ocean breeze carried by the wind. No lingering scent of Auren’s skin.

Ulric took a deep breath through his nose, but detected nothing.

It was as though that very sense was stripped from him.

What would go next? His hearing? His sight?

He tried not to think about it as he rolled over, feeling the faint rays of the sun on his bare back. It was warm already, the kind of heat that promised a good day for drying herbs or letting washed clothes stiffen on the line. A lazy sort of heat that wrapped the cabin like a cocoon.

How dare this world be as beautiful as this, even as his world was falling apart, right before his eyes?

And as he forced himself upright, the most beautiful thing in all of creation turned its head and smiled at him. Auren sat cross-legged on the floor, a peeled orange in his lap and a book in his hands. His red hair caught the morning light and glowed around his face.

“Good afternoon,” Auren said, returning his focus to the citrus.

“Is it that late already?” Ulric groaned, letting the blanket fall from his chest. He didn’t need to look to know it was almost devoid of all tattoos.

“It is. But I figured you needed the rest,” Auren said without looking up.

“Mhm.”

They sat for several silent heartbeats, with nothing but the sound of orange rinds falling to the floor and the faint snap of the curtains.

“You’re staring,” Auren said without looking up.

“I’m allowed,” Ulric replied.

“You’re being creepy.”

“That’s my right, too.”

Auren snorted and threw a piece of orange at him. It hit Ulric’s shoulder and rolled onto the blanket.

“There, eat. I peeled that with love.”

“You peeled it with nails like a savage,” Ulric said, inspecting the decimated orange slice.

Auren leaned over, stealing the piece from Ulric’s fingers with his teeth. “Says the man who once told a room full of nobles I had mistaken a trident for a backscratcher.”

Ulric didn’t even flinch. “To be fair, you were scratching your back with it.”

“I had an itch. And no one was supposed to be watching.”

“You were in full ceremonial garb. On a balcony.”

“And you let them believe I didn’t know what a weapon was.”

Ulric leaned back into the pillows with a smug smile. “I thought it added character.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I love you, too.”

They bickered like that back and forth, eating fruits and talking of nothing.

Every time Auren made a sharp remark, Ulric gave one back, even if it took effort.

He laughed, even when it made him dizzy.

He listened as Auren told stories of his childhood, about sneaking out of the palace to talk to Iska and carve rude words into the coral walls.

Ulric taught him human games using cards and dice.

By late afternoon, Auren was winning every round.

“You’re losing your edge, old man.”

“Yes, celebrate your shallow victory against a fatigued opponent.”

“Do I detect the smell of—” he took an exaggerated sniff, “Yes, there it is. Smells like a sore loser.”

Ulric grabbed Auren by the back of the neck, smashing their mouths together for the first time that day, though it felt like they hadn’t touched in lifetimes. Auren made a startled little sound, and Ulric wished for the strength to pour his love onto this man using every inch of his body.

But he just couldn’t….

“You’re lucky I find you so appealing, spriteling.”

Auren stuck out his tongue, and Ulric dove to snatch it into his mouth. They laughed into the kiss together. Lost in the simplicity of the moment.

They didn’t speak of what might happen tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. They didn’t mention Atlantis, or the court, or Poseidon’s judgment waiting like storm clouds on the horizon.

Every time the words hovered on Auren’s tongue, Ulric reached out and touched him—his hand, his cheek, the back of his neck—and the question would pass unspoken. It was kinder that way.

The truth would come. Ulric didn’t need to summon it with words.

The sun was high, and the tide had gone out.

Ulric was tired of being indoors all day, despite having no strength to do anything else.

When he asked for a walk, Auren didn’t hesitate.

He tucked his shoulder beneath Ulric’s, steadying him as they moved slowly along the shore.

Ulric’s chest tightened at the natural way in which Auren stepped in to care for him.

To hold him in a time of weakness. It led Ulric down a rabbit hole of “what ifs” that left him sick to his stomach.

What a pairing they would have made. Nothing in all the seas would have stopped them.

Their power, their union, their love, unmatched by anything, even the might of Poseidon.

How different things might have been.

But that was for the next life, and Ulric was already mourning for how much he’d miss in this one.

Because even as he faded, the world was so painfully alive.

Seagulls shrieked overhead. The surf crashed in gentle rhythm.

The sand clung warm to Ulric’s feet. Auren pointed out every strange little shell, every floundering crab, and shimmer of fish between rocks.

He talked just enough to keep the silence from turning heavy.

Never too much. Always watching Ulric from the corner of his eye, offering a hand every time Ulric’s breath hitched or his knees faltered.

“You know,” Ulric said as they paused to rest on a flat, sun-warmed boulder, “if I had met you earlier in life, I would’ve done things differently.”

Auren rested his chin on his knees. “I would’ve called you a grumpy bastard and avoided you for years.”

“Fair.”

“You would’ve rolled your eyes at all my human treasures and told me half of it was garbage.”

“I would’ve moved things around just to piss you off.”

“Don’t you dare touch my collection.”

Ulric gave him a sideways look. “You have a dozen rusted forks and a shattered lantern.”

“If you didn’t know what they were, you would have kept them too. And they have charm .”

Auren laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked like he was fighting not to ask the question heavy on his mind. Ulric didn’t stop him.

“Do you regret coming up here?” Auren asked. “I mean not the beginning of it.” His demeanor shrank at even the mention of Elias. “But the stuff after. Staying with me up here instead of dragging me straight back home?”

Ulric reached over, took Auren’s hand, and kissed the inside of his wrist. “I would have leapt out of the water to come to you a thousand times over. You are?—”

He hesitated, the words clawing at the back of his throat. But Auren didn’t rush him.

“You’re stubborn,” Ulric murmured. “Loud. Reckless. And somehow still… gentle. You have an inquisitive mind and are fierce in ways that make even the gods pay attention. You’ve taken everything this world gave you and turned it into something bright.

And you look at me like I’m more than… just a pawn of the court.

” Ulric smiled faintly. “And no one’s ever taken care of me like you do. ”

Auren looked startled. “I don’t… do anything special.”

“You do everything,” Ulric said. “You listen. You learn. You see this world with the kind of courage nobody else dares to.”

He let his fingers trace the inside of Auren’s wrist, memorizing the shape.

Auren said nothing. But he squeezed his hand tightly. They stayed like that for a while, hands clasped, foreheads almost touching, the tide hissing in retreat.

Slowly, Ulric got to his feet, brushing sand from his pants.

“Let’s head back, I can teach you another game of cards—” Ulric’s sentence died in his mouth.

He thought he had more time.

He thought he’d feel it coming. The moment when the gods reached out to take their due. That there would be warning—thunder, waves, some dramatic sign befitting the end of a Kraken’s final chapter.

But when it came, it was in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

There was no storm.

No howling wind.

Just the cry of a gull, and the sudden, breathtaking pain lancing through his gut.

Ulric stumbled, grabbing at Auren’s shoulder. He gasped once, then dropped to one knee.

“Ulric?!” Auren cried, catching him—but not fast enough. Ulric crumpled forward, eyes wide.

The sand was warm beneath his palms. Too warm. His vision swam.

“Auren…” he rasped.

Auren fell to the ground beside him, hands gripping his arms. “What is it? What’s happening?!”

Ulric looked up, barely able to hold his head steady.

“Go… back,” he whispered.

“Do you need a tonic? Which one? I can run and get?—”

“No.” Ulric rasped. “Go home. Go to Atlantis. I can’t hold it anymore.”

And as the sunlight spilled across the sea like ambrosia, he thought?—

This should’ve happened at night.

The world shouldn’t have looked so delighted by his demise.

But it did.

And now…

Now he had to say goodbye.