Page 9 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

Auren’s expression changed. It lost its usual biting edge and settled into curiosity. Almost trust.

Trust. That was dangerous.

Ulric rose and made his way to the cave’s entrance before he could say something foolish. “No glaring tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder. “Play nice and I’ll make it worth your while.”

He was so hurried to get out of there, to get out of that stifling proximity, that he almost missed the quiet response.

“I look forward to it.”

They left at dusk.

The water shimmered with fading light, orange streaks filtering through the surface like the sea itself had caught fire.

The warmth of it kissed their skin as they swam, turning scales and tattoos to molten reflections.

Auren stayed close, quieter than usual, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his anticipation.

Ulric led them beyond the kelp forests and through a shallow underpass, where columns of coral bent with the current like swaying reeds. The route narrowed, then opened again into a wide clearing over the reef’s edge.

And there it was.

The Abyssal Bloom.

Not the cold, starlit kind they’d seen before—this was its opposite.

A crack in the sea floor split, and through it, warm mineral waters from deep vents surged upward in long, spiraling plumes. Caught in the currents were ribbons of sun-reactive plankton, only active for the brief window of time when the light hit just right.

Now, in the magic hour of sunset, they glowed—not with blues or greens, but oranges and ambers. The water blushed with warmth, as though they were swimming through sunlight made liquid.

Ulric glanced over.

Auren’s eyes were wide with awe, every sharp edge of him softened by the light. His red hair burned brighter than ever, suspended in the warm currents, his skin kissed in gold.

Ulric swallowed hard. “I thought you might like it,” he said quietly.

Auren only nodded, drifting further into the bloom where rays of sunlight turned his hair to flame and fins to glass.

He looked like a god.

Conjured from salt and sunlight.

Ulric watched from a distance, trapped in a tempest of thought.

Why did Auren look so right here?

Why did this beautiful creature—this infuriating, brilliant, untamable man—look like he belonged in the sunlight?

Why couldn’t he bring that radiance downward?

Why was his gaze always cast toward the sun?

Why couldn’t he be content in the deep?

With me, Ulric thought, bitter as brine.

He met Auren in the bloom before he realized what he was doing. His tentacles curled slowly behind him, careful, as though to lock them in place and resist the urge to reach out.

Auren was only inches away, looking at him through gold glittered lashes.

There was no playful smirk. No teasing glint in his eye. Just… tenderness.

And want .

It struck Ulric like a harpoon to the chest.

That look—the barest tilt of Auren’s head, the way his lashes dipped, the slight parting of his lips— that was not the look Ulric had grown used to.

Not a look of defiance. Or anger. It was the look of someone reaching.

Someone yearning. Someone on the precipice of discovering that what they wanted most… was right in front of them.

Ulric’s heart kicked in his chest. Too hard. Too loud. The blood sang in his ears. Auren’s voice was quiet, but it wrapped around him like a vice.

“I used to think I’d feel trapped forever,” Auren murmured, eyes still on him. “That nothing could ever change. But now… I don’t know. Things feel different.”

Ulric swallowed. This was dangerous. “Auren…”

“I look at you now,” Auren said, “and I don’t feel trapped.”

Ulric couldn’t breathe.

He wanted to touch him. He wanted to grab him. By the wrist, by the waist, by the mouth—and kiss that hope from his lips before it crushed them both. But he didn’t move.

His voice came out like gravel.

“Then why do you always chase the sky, Auren?” Ulric asked, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever wondered who waits for you in the depths?”

Auren’s breath hitched, and when he looked at Ulric, those cerulean eyes were glowing, pulsing with magic still to come, straining to reveal itself early. Ulric’s magic hummed in response.

“I never had a reason to look down before,” Auren said, voice low. “But… maybe now?”

Then, Auren’s gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered there. Ulric’s stomach clenched. A moment later, he felt the brush of hands against his shoulders. Tentative. Testing. Then firm.

“I think,” Auren said, “I should’ve been looking into the depths all along.”

Ulric’s throat bobbed with the force of a swallow. His heart was beating like a war drum, his body caught between instinct and rule, desire and duty. Every ancient vow he’d sworn was unraveling like old rope.

He should say something—stop this before it grew out of control.

Instead, he whispered, “And if the depths have been waiting for you all this time?”

Auren didn’t answer. Because everything in his eyes spoke for him. Ulric moved. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was Auren. Maybe they both leaned in at once. He didn’t mean to reach out. He didn’t mean to touch.

But his hand slid gently into the prince’s hair, fingers brushing the silver silk woven through the braid. His palm came to rest against Auren’s cheek, warm and soft beneath his callused touch. One of his tentacles shifted forward until it curled around the delicate arch of Auren’s tail.

Anchoring him.

Just for a moment.

Long enough for Ulric to pretend they belonged like this.

Long enough to want it more than the next beat of his heart.

“I think,” Auren said, voice trembling, “I might be ready… to be held that close.”

His fingers curled on Ulric’s shoulders. Grounding. Seeking an anchor in the electric current of emotions tugging them towards each other.

Then, slowly, Auren leaned in.

Ulric did too.

There was only breath. Only closeness.

I’m going to kiss him.

Ulric opened his lips, tilting his head and?—

The magic struck.

It was a silent, brutal lash. Like his ribs had cracked open, and the ocean was pouring in. Agony tore through him. One of the runes inked into his skin burned white-hot, then vanished.

Ulric choked, hands yanked back as if scalded, his tentacles recoiling like a wounded thing.

“Ulric—?” Auren’s voice was alarmed, confused.

But Ulric was already backing away, pain radiating like fire through his limbs. His breath came ragged, his heart crashing against his sternum like a tortured prisoner begging for escape.

No. Not again.

The gods warned him.

No mate. No desire. No love.

Auren reached out, catching him gently by the wrist. “Ulric, what’s wrong?”

But the moment their skin touched, Ulric jerked like he’d been burned.

“I can’t,” he rasped, the words strangled from his throat.

Then he turned and fled into the dark.

“Ulric!” Auren called after him, but Ulric didn’t look back. Didn’t slow.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m… not strong enough.

That night, he did not return to Atlantis.

He told himself it was duty. That the sea needed him elsewhere, that time would dull the ache.

But the truth was far simpler. He couldn’t stay.

Not when he was already drowning. Not when every part of him still burned with the memory of Auren’s mouth—of a kiss they’d never shared.

So he made himself a promise: He would bury this feeling in the blackest depths of the sea. Leave it where it could rot. Where it would never rise again. Where it could never ruin him.

Or the Mer who looked to the sky.