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Once upon a time, in a land far away, in a village by the sea there lived a boy.

Viktor didn’t have a terrible life. It was maybe a bit smaller and less fancy than most, but he was happy. He loved his mother, widowed when Viktor was too small to remember. He loved his dog, found three years ago in the shed next to their tiny house. He loved their tiny house, just big enough for the three of them. Life was maybe not perfect, but it was good.

Every day, Viktor would venture out into their little portside village with his faithful Makkachin at his heels, and his mother would give him the same admonishment:

“Don’t go near the sea! It hides dangers like no man has ever seen!”

And so Viktor stayed away from the bluffs and the beach, exploring the forest and the fields instead. There were days when it was too cold or too rainy to play outside, and those were days when he curled up in his bed and read books that were much, much older than him. They were final gifts from his father, long since passed. Papa had made sure that Viktor learned to read at a young age, with the hopes that his son would grow to be more than a sailor like him.

Viktor wasn’t sure what he wanted to be, in all honesty. But for the moment, he was content… which is why he was confused when his mother spoke up at dinner one night, shortly before his twelfth birthday.

“Vitya, darling,” she said softly, looking into her soup bowl with an unreadable expression. “Do you ever feel like… I haven’t given you enough?”

Viktor blinked. “Of course not, Mama.”

“But do you feel like there are some things I can’t do? Things that your Papa could?”

“No, Mama!”

But she clearly did not believe him, because the very next week Mama came home and chivvied him to wash up. “We have a guest coming for dinner,” she said, putting Makkachin outside.

Viktor frowned. “Who?”

“You will see.”

The guest turned out to be a burly, older man named Ivan. He was much older than Viktor’s father had been, and worked on the docks. He was grizzled, weathered, and cranky. Viktor did not much like him at first glance, and this did not change throughout the dinner.

“There’s nothin’ like a home-cooked meal ready and waiting for ye after a long day, boy,” he said, pointing a blunt finger at Viktor. “Get ye a good woman and you’ll never want for anythin’ fer long as ye live.”

Viktor made a face. “I help cook,” he pointed out politely.

Ivan snorted. “Woman’s work,” he said dismissively. “Tho’ ye could be forgiven fer thinkin’ like that, lookin’ like that.”

Viktor bristled. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Vitya,” Mama admonished, but Ivan silenced her with a wave of the hand.

“That long hair?” he scoffed, jabbing a fork in Viktor’s direction. “No proper boy keeps long hair. Cut it off, act more like a man. Yer too prissy, not enough dirt under yer nails.”

“You’re rude,” Viktor grumbled, shrinking from his mother’s warning look.

Ivan laughed, and it was not a nice laugh. “Ye don’t learn manners on the docks, boy.”

Obviously, Viktor thought but did not say. He decided to ignore Ivan’s baits for the rest of the meal, and hoped that would be the end of it.

Except Ivan kept coming over and joining them for meals. Some days he stayed late, and some days he arrived smelling like the tavern and with drink on his breath. Viktor disliked him even more on these evenings, because his tongue was looser and he grew meaner. Viktor took to bed earlier those nights, curling up with Makkachin and his favorite book of folktales, losing himself in stories of seals who could become people and enchanting underwater cities that no one save for a few sailors had ever seen.

Ivan began to deride Viktor for his reading habits. “Books’re fer a rich man,” he would say gruffly, and Viktor would scowl at him and clutch the tome to his chest.

At church, Mama would drag Viktor over to join Ivan in the pews. They would stay after Mass to talk to the deacon, and Viktor would wait impatiently in the cold outside until they emerged and Mama would take Viktor back home.

“I don’t like Ivan,” he said one day, before the man himself appeared for dinner. “He’s mean to me.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Mama admonished. “He’s a good, hardworking man.”

“So?” Viktor challenged.

“It would do you well to learn from him.”

“Learn what? How to drink and insult people?”

Mama gave him a tired look. “Vitya, please.”

Viktor held his tongue throughout supper, and then retreated to his little room with Makkachin while Ivan’s voice boomed its way up through the walls. His rough laughter made the windowpane rattle.

Viktor wished the man would go away.

In the spring, his worst fears were realized when Mama married Ivan.

He moved in with them instead of the opposite, as he’d previously lived in a boarding house, and suddenly Viktor’s perfectly small house began to feel too small.

One day, Ivan’s back began to give him too much trouble to work; he decided he’d been laboring long enough and retired, taking a rather modest pension. It wasn’t enough - or, rather, Ivan began to drink it away after his days were suddenly freed up. Mama had made do before Ivan, taking odd jobs and occasionally relying on charity from the church when things were slow, but now that Ivan wasn’t working and instead lazing about their house, purse strings were starting to draw tighter.

Ivan couldn’t work, so Mama had to. On one brisk Monday, she walked up the hill to the grand house at the top, and came back with a job as a maid for the richest merchant in the village.

She worked long days and sometimes nights for a few shillings, and for a while everything was all right. Then there were some readjustments, they got used to Mama not being there in the morning, and Ivan began to drink away her wages as well.

Viktor missed his Mama. He missed how it had been with just the two of them. And then he began to miss meals.

“Why did you marry him?” Viktor asked Mama as she tucked him into bed one night, her silvery hair still in her tight maid’s bun.

“Darling,” she said, kissing his forehead. “Everything I do is for you. Ivan will be a good father for you, I promise.”

But she was wrong.

Viktor returned home from a contemplative walk through the fields with Makkachin and found the door to his bedroom wide open, even though he’d closed it when he’d left. Heart in his throat, he fell to his knees and checked under the bed, where he kept his father’s books.

They were gone.

“Where are they?” he demanded, storming into the kitchen. Mama wasn’t home yet, but Ivan had already made himself at home at the table with a large stein of beer. “Where are my books?”

“Sold ‘em,” Ivan grunted, taking a gulp of his drink. “No need for ‘em, I told ye. Don’ look so sour,” he added, smirking and making Viktor’s blood boil. “Yer too old to spend all day playin’ about. When I was yer age, I was already workin’.”

Viktor was speechless. “But they were mine,” he finally hissed. “They were my father’s. My Papa gave them to me!”

“This is my house now, boy,” Ivan shot back at him. “And everything in it is mine, too. Live with it.”

Viktor stared at him, aghast. “This is not your house,” he said faintly, but Ivan snorted at him dismissively and went back to his stein.

It was too much, and Viktor turned on his heel and fled.

With Makkachin at his heels, Viktor ran. He ran past the fields, through the forest, and his feet took him over the bluffs until he stumbled onto the beach.

His mother’s warnings far from his mind, he fell to his knees and shuddered at the chilly wind coming off the sea.

Dangers like no man has ever seen, Mama’s voice whispered in his thoughts, but the waves calmly lapped at the shore and the sand was soft, and Viktor drew Makkachin closer to him.

No one would know where to look for him, if he came here. He warmed with the realization, and buried his face in Makkachin’s fleece.

The tiny house was no longer home, and Viktor felt like a ship unmoored, drifting along on the shifting tide. He wondered if he could just run away so he’d never again have to see Ivan sitting with his feet up on Mama’s little kitchen table, drinking away his pension and taking up space meant for Viktor and his mother.

“I wish…” his voice wavered, cracked in his throat. “I wish I had someone, Makka.”

His dog made a soft noise and sniffed the air before settling against Viktor’s side.

Viktor looked out over the sea, at the sky dotted with clouds. “Someone has to be out there, Makka. It’s such a big world.”

Makkachin whined, and Viktor petted her. The wind swept his hair like a cape behind him, and he shivered.

He stayed there until sunset before he and Makkachin made their way back through the forest, past the fields, and through the village.

Mama was busy in the kitchen, and Ivan ignored Viktor as he passed through, shutting himself into his room. He left Makkachin curled up on his bed when Mama called him for supper, and stayed silent throughout the meal, wondering if the mutton on his plate had come from Ivan’s selling his books. It made the meat turn to ash in his mouth.

Mama tried to talk to him, get him to speak up, but Ivan always drowned her out and redirected the conversation. Viktor ignored his stepfather, and when he climbed into bed his stomach was still tight with hunger. He ignored that too.

The next morning, he regretted not eating more. Mama was already gone and Ivan had disappeared off to the tavern, and upon inspection of the cupboards Viktor found nothing left over from the previous night’s supper. The kitchen was barren, and he was starving.

Viktor quickly dressed for the late spring weather and roused Makkachin before slipping out of the house. He stopped at the abbey, where kind-hearted nuns were still giving out charity breakfasts, and nibbled on a roll while giving Makkachin his links of sausage. Hunger sated, he left the village and made his way back to the beach.

The sea was just as he’d left it, steadily beating on the shore, and Viktor spent the morning chasing Makkachin around and dancing away from the surf, exploring the sand for interesting flotsam, and basking in the sun.

He turned to look out over the sea at the ships perched on the horizon, and blinked when he saw something that looked remarkably like a head in the water. “Hello?” he called, and it disappeared back under the waves.

Viktor frowned, but a few minutes passed and nothing happened, so he figured it was something swept out from the sea and put it out of his mind.

Still, he felt like he was being watched for the rest of his time on the beach. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he kept looking out at the sea but nothing presented itself.

Dangers like no man has ever seen…

But his afternoon was peaceful and uneventful, and with his stomach protesting at his skipping of lunch, he and Makkachin made their way home for supper.

Bare cupboards became a regular occurrence, and Viktor began to field concerned questions from the nuns, who commented on his skinniness and shabby clothes. He was tempted to avoid the abbey, but Ivan continued to drain Mama’s purse and spend the household’s income on the tavern, and Viktor didn’t enjoy being hungry.

He became intimately familiar with the beach, and as the weather grew warmer he began to venture into the surf, Makkachin excitedly following. One day he took off his worn shoes, rolled his pants up to his knees, and stepped into the surf, giggling as the waves tickled his ankles. Makkachin danced around him, running in and out of the waves and barking excitedly.

The water was cold and salty, and the sun was bright and warm overhead, and Viktor thoroughly wore himself out playing with Makkachin before his stomach began to grumble and he grew tired. They flopped down onto the sand and Makkachin fell asleep next to Viktor as the heat seeped into his skin. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it away.

There was a long stretch of silence only broken by the sound of waves lapping at the sand, and then a quiet voice spoke up. “Are you hungry?”

Viktor shot to his feet, staring wildly around, and his eyes fell upon a boy sitting in the water in front of him. “Where did you come from?” he asked, surprised.

The boy pointed behind him, at the sea.

Viktor frowned. “From across the sea?”

“No,” the boy said, and Viktor got closer.

“You’re from the sea?” Viktor asked, and then he saw the sparkling gray tail where legs should have been.

The boy nodded, smiling softly. “I’m Yuuri,” he said shyly.

Viktor was staring, but he realized he was being rude. “I’m Viktor,” he answered, and he sat down in the surf heedless of the waves.

“You’re a land boy!” Yuuri observed, and the way he said it made Viktor double over in laughter.

“Yes, I am,” he agreed. “I guess that makes you a merboy?”

“I guess!” Yuuri said. He poked at Viktor’s ankle. “What does this feel like?”

“It feels like you’re prodding me!”

Yuuri blushed. “But what does it feel like?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor said, weirdly charmed. “Like a foot. What does your tail feel like?”

Yuuri giggled. “Like a tail.”

“How interesting,” Viktor said, grinning, and was delighted when the merboy laughed.

“Are you hungry, Viktor?” Yuuri finally asked when he regained his breath.

Viktor’s stomach growled, answering for him, and it was his turn to blush. “I am.”

“Do you eat fish?”

Viktor’s stomach made another noise, and he started to salivate. “Yes.”

“Wait for me,” Yuuri said, pushing himself into the deeper waters. “I’ll be right back.”

Viktor blinked as the merboy dived down under the waves, his silvery tail flickering, and disappeared. It was almost like he’d dreamed of it, at least until the merboy reappeared and eagerly offered Viktor a fish, still flopping around.

“Oh!” Viktor said, eying the fish. “I usually eat those after they’ve been cooked.”

Yuuri blinked. “What’s cooked?”

“Cooking,” Viktor said, giggling. “When you put food on a fire.”

“What’s a fire?”

“I… I dunno, it’s fire.”

Yuuri made a face at him. “That doesn’t tell me what it is!”

“It’s hot and dry,” Viktor explained. “Like the sun.”

“Oh!” Yuuri’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing!”

“It is,” Viktor agreed. “Especially when it gets cold out at night.”

“It’s always cold,” Yuuri said. “Where I live, that is.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “You live in the sea,” he said, and it only truly occurred to him then that Yuuri didn’t live on land.

“Well, yes!” Yuuri laughed, and it was the most beautiful laugh Viktor had ever heard. “Where else would I live?”

“Well, I live in a house on land,” Viktor pointed out.

“Yes, but you’re a land boy!”

“And you’re a merboy.”

“Yes!”

They both burst into laughter.

“Can we be friends?” Viktor asked, wiping away tears of mirth.

“I want that!” Yuuri said, and took Viktor’s hand in his own. “Friends! I like you, your hair is like those shiny coins in sunken ships and your eyes are like the sky.”

“I like you too,” Viktor answered. “You make me laugh.”

“What’s that?” Yuuri suddenly asked, pointing at Makkachin. “I’ve never seen one of those before.”

“Oh, that’s Makkachin! I’ll introduce you.” Viktor clapped and whistled for the poodle, who was staying a bit further back.

Once the dog was coaxed into approaching, Yuuri’s face lit up in delight as Makkachin decided she liked Yuuri as well and bestowed slobbery kisses all over the merboy’s face.

“She’s so soft,” Yuuri said in wonder, patting Makkachin’s head.

“Yes, she’s even softer when she’s not wet,” Viktor laughed, and Makkachin nosed at Yuuri’s hand for more pets.

“I wanna feel that too!” Yuuri decided. “One day!”

Viktor wondered if Yuuri could leave the sea like Viktor could leave the land, but realized that might be rude to ask. Instead, he shuffled deeper into the water until it was up to his chest, and Yuuri drew up close to him.

“Can you swim, Viktor?” the merboy asked.

Viktor shook his head. “I’ve never been in the sea before this.”

“Never?” Yuuri was aghast. “But it’s so big, how could you never have come here before?”

Viktor looked back at the shore, where Makkachin was waiting in the surf. “My mother always told me it was dangerous.”

“Some parts are,” Yuuri admitted. “But I don’t go there.”

And that made sense. Yuuri surely knew where the safe places were in the sea. “Is this safe?”

“As long as I avoid the boats, yes!” Yuuri pointed at the ships on the horizon. “But they’re so slow, I never have trouble.”

Viktor laughed. “I see! Well, Yuuri, I would love for you to teach me how to swim.”

“I don’t know how to swim with legs,” Yuuri said, brushing up against Viktor’s shin with his tail.

“Then I’ll learn how to swim like you,” Viktor declared.

They spent the rest of the afternoon out in the deeper waters, and Viktor was proud of himself when he proved capable of propelling himself through the water with no help. Yuuri was excited as well, and kept brushing up against him and smiling sweetly. Eventually they retired to the shallows again, and Makkachin demanded more attention from them.

They traded questions, and Viktor learned many things: Yuuri was only a few years younger than him; he had a mother, a father, and a sister in a small village out in the deeper seas; he was fascinated with land people and their way of life; he had been all over the coastline, spying on the ports, and he’d never approached a land person before. Not until Viktor.

Viktor felt incredibly special. He was also incredibly hungry, now.

“I need to go home,” he eventually said, after they had sat in the surf and talked about too many topics to wrap his mind around. “My mother will be wondering where I am.”

“I should go, too,” Yuuri admitted. “My family will be calling for me soon. It’s getting to be low tide.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri squeezed his hand.

“Tomorrow,” the merboy promised.

Viktor went to the beach every day after that, bringing Makkachin and, after he started squirreling away food at supper, a little basket filled with land food for himself. He ended up sharing some meat from the abbey with Yuuri, who declared it the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. Slowly, he began to introduce other land foods to the merboy, like bread and milk and cheese. Of all the land animal meats, Yuuri was especially fond of pork. Viktor wished he could bring the merboy more, but he was already getting strange looks from Ivan.

For his part, Yuuri in turn began to bring Viktor some of his people’s food, mostly fish-based. But he also brought strange plants for Viktor to try, which were surprisingly tasty.

There were days when Viktor didn’t have as much food to share, especially after days where Ivan disappeared to the pub all night, and Yuuri would catch fish and bring them to Viktor, who eventually began to get hungry enough that he learned how to debone fish and scrape the scales off. He showed Yuuri how to make a fire, and the merboy watched from the water with wide eyes as the little pile of sticks caught the flame and burned. His expression when he bit into the cooked fish Viktor offered him was hilarious and endearing.

“I wish we could make fire underwater,” Yuuri said, lounging half on the sand and half in the surf. He was on his third cooked fish, and had to keep it away from Makkachin, who thought they were playing a game.

“You eat your fish raw?” Viktor asked, pulling another stick off the fire.

“Is that what it’s called?” Yuuri pushed Makkachin’s face away as she nosed too close to his food. “When it’s not cooked?”

“Yes. Us land people have to cook all of our meat.”

“All of it?” Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“It makes us sick,” Viktor explained, blowing on the smoking meat. “Cooking it makes it safer.”

“That’s so strange!” Yuuri said, and then yelped as Makkachin stole his fish. “Oh!”

Viktor had to stifle his laughter against the back of his hand as Yuuri pouted. “Here,” he said, handing the merboy the stick he’d just taken off the fire.

“No, I don’t need to eat more,” Yuuri said, pushing it away. “I just like the taste.”

Viktor frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Your stomach will grumble,” Yuuri informed him, and Viktor winced as it did.

“Fine,” he muttered, and bit into his fish. After they finished eating, Viktor playfully chased Yuuri in the deeper waters, his swimming stronger with every stroke.

That night, Ivan pointedly asked after Viktor’s whereabouts during the day. Viktor, for the first time in his life, lied and said he’d spent the day trying to catch rabbits in the woods. Ivan narrowed his eyes at the statement, but didn’t press.

This continued for a few months: Viktor would slip out of the house after Mama left for her work at the house on the hill, spend the day with Yuuri, and come home to Ivan’s suspicious prodding. The summer faded into the harvest, and the winds off the sea began to carry a bite. Viktor continued to visit Yuuri, whose face lit up every time he spotted Viktor cresting the bluffs.

Viktor was well aware that he didn’t have that many human friends his age, but he didn’t really care. Yuuri had made a home in his heart, and the very thought warmed Viktor to the core.

However, as the pastor liked to say, all good things had to eventually end. Almost a year into the strange friendship, Ivan cornered Viktor after dinner one night, face reddened with rum, and demanded to know what Viktor was really doing every day.

“I’m playing with my friend,” Viktor answered, squaring his shoulders. He was growing taller with every day, and now stood even with Ivan’s chin. “We’re teaching each other about our homes.”

“If ye have enough time t’ play, ye have enough time t’ work,” Ivan decided.

Viktor blanched, but Mama shushed his protests and agreed with her husband. Viktor was outvoted.

The next day, Viktor was dragged to the docks and presented to Yakov, one of the fishermen. Yakov agreed to take Viktor under his wing, and Viktor was set to work at the docks every day save for Sunday.

Yakov was a gruff, balding man with a sea-weathered face. He’d been captaining the Lady Lily for well over a decade, and he made it clear that Viktor was to pick up on his brisk instruction quickly. Viktor couldn’t help but snap at the man when he became irritated, and Yakov surprised him by taking it in stride and tossing it right back at him. His biting sarcasm and cutting wit managed to earn Viktor’s begrudging respect, and he was definitely learning things against his will.

“You’re a smart boy,” Yakov informed him. “Act it, and this world will not step on you.”

Viktor bit his cheek to keep himself from sniping at the old man’s unasked-for wisdom. Instead, when he was given permission to take a lunch break, he ran from the docks and down to his beach. The merboy was waiting with a sorrowful expression that melted away when he caught sight of Viktor.

“I can’t stay,” Viktor admitted, and now he could cry. “My mama wants me to work so I can help pay for food.” He knelt in the surf and clasped Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri looked heartbroken. “I’ll miss you,” he said, and kissed Viktor on the cheek. “Come and see me when you can, I’ll be waiting here for you.”

“I’ll be on the docks,” Viktor said, pointing in their direction. His cheek still tingled where the merboy had kissed him. “You’ll be able to see me, but don’t get too close.”

Yuuri smiled, a soft, fragile thing, and agreed. They talked for a few minutes more, and then Viktor had to run back to the docks as his lunch break ended. He looked back over his shoulder just in time to see Yuuri’s silver tail splashing into the deeper waters.

It took a week for Viktor to decide he despised his new arrangement. That was also how long it took for his hair to keep getting in the way, despite his efforts to braid it. By Friday, Ivan got one of his most frequent wishes: Viktor’s hair was chopped off to a more manageable length, and the castoffs were sold to a wigmaker who practically wept in gratitude for such fine locks.

Yuuri was as disappointed as Viktor, when they met again on Sunday. He pushed Viktor’s newly shorn bangs out of his eyes and sighed. “I’ll miss it.”

Viktor swallowed, and nodded. The merboy had always admired his hair, playing with it after they’d finished chasing each other in the water.

His hair had fetched a fine price from the wigmaker, and his stepfather had pocketed the coins immediately. Viktor had already resigned himself to never seeing a shilling of his own earnings.

“I found this yesterday,” Yuuri said, drawing him back to the there and then. He pressed something into Viktor’s hand. “Maybe it can help you.”

Viktor blinked and opened his fingers to reveal a dazzlingly gold coin. “Where did you find this?” he gasped.

“Out there, near the shelf,” Yuuri said, pointing towards the horizon.

Viktor vaguely recalled that a merchant ship had been sunk in a storm many years before his birth. The wreckage was too far out for salvage. Not so for a merperson.

“Yuuri, this is the most wonderful thing!” he said excitedly. “I can buy so much food with this!”

Yuuri grinned. “I’ll bring you more, every time we meet.”

“Thank you,” Viktor said, kissing Yuuri on the forehead. “Thank you so much.”

The merboy blushed prettily, and the image was emblazoned on the insides of Viktor’s eyelids long after they parted for the day and Viktor almost skipped home in a happy daze.

The following day, when Viktor brought home enough pork to feed the family for two days, his mother demanded to know where he’d gotten it. He told them he’d been given a bonus and had decided to treat them all. His mother had accepted that explanation, but his stepfather had been suspicious.

Viktor snuck away from the docks the day after that to meet Yuuri and give him some of the smoked jerky that his mother had packed for his lunch. Yuuri gave him a handful of silver coins in turn.

Viktor began to spend Yuuri’s gifts on things that he and his mother hadn’t been able to afford in a long time, like clothes and shoes. He surprised his mother with a new shawl when the weather began to grow colder, and a beautiful hair clasp for her birthday. His stepfather refused to believe that he’d earned extra pay on the docks, but was unable to prove otherwise.

Yuuri continued to bring him coins, but he also brought other things he found in the shipwrecks he visited, things that Viktor would explain and demonstrate to him. Yuuri’s dazzled expression as Viktor showed him how a quill worked remained in his mind’s eye, and he dreamed of the merboy that night.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years. Viktor’s time at the docks finally did away with his slim, childish figure and bestowed upon him broad shoulders and long, strong legs. He outgrew his clothes so quickly that Yuuri’s continued gifts of coins from various shipwrecks were the only reason he was properly clothed anymore.

Yuuri grew up, too. Viktor was blessed with the pleasure of watching his beloved friend follow him through adolescence, his childishly round face sharpening and his shoulders and neck lengthening elegantly. One year, his tail began to shift colors, changing from a muted slate to a dazzling gold. Yuuri admitted that both of his parents were colored similarly, while Viktor could barely hold back his awe.

Ivan only grew meaner as the years wore on, and continually tried to sniff out where Viktor was finding his wealth. Viktor carefully guarded the secret of his beloved friend from his greedy stepfather, who continued to drink away the wages that Viktor and his mother brought home. He’d hoped that his stepfather would be satisfied with that, but it had been a thin hope.

Instead, he began to sneak out at night to see Yuuri, bringing a small lantern and his basket of food, and even though the night’s chill bit at his cheeks, those meetings were the most cherished times of his days.

Eventually, after Viktor’s twentieth birthday, Yakov asked him if he would ever consider marrying.

Viktor, who had been engrossed in mending a net, blinked and frowned. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Such a handsome and hardworking young man like yourself would have no trouble finding a wife,” Yakov pointed out. It was true that, despite Viktor’s initial unhappiness with his work at the docks, he’d blossomed into a successful member of Yakov’s fishing boat.

Viktor shrugged. “I’m quite content,” he said, carrying on with his mending.

“Yes, but--”

“I know Georgi is looking for a wife, though,” Viktor added quickly, in a bald attempt to divert Yakov’s attention.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Viktor, but let him be after that.

Viktor was well aware that he had become the village oddity, for the most part. Sure, he got on well with his fellow dock workers, but he didn’t join them for the most part when they descended upon the pubs after the docks closed. He joined them for lunch some days, but preferred to spend his meals with Yuuri at their beach. And as he grew older alongside his fellows and remained the only one not married off or courting a potential wife, he became even stranger to the townsfolk.

Worse, he was desired.

Viktor began to fend off ventures from the unmarried women who were around his age, and even a few older women. He wasn’t in need of a dowry, and was content in his life. He had his mother, he had Makkachin, who was starting to get more silvery than beige, and he had Yuuri, who occupied his dreams. He didn’t need much else.

“It’s such an inconvenience,” he griped to the merboy, who was looking less and less like a little boy with every day. He certainly acted less so.

Yuuri smirked, poking Viktor’s ankle. “I bet; being the most desired man in the village must be such a hardship.”

Viktor narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Well, what about you? Do you have to fend off marriage requests?”

Yuuri blushed and turned his face away. “Um. Not really. There are plenty of eligible mermen in the sea, you know.”

Viktor frowned. “Well, I’m sure you’re quite desirable. You’re set to inherit a business,” he added, referring to the family’s hot water vent services.

“I’m really not,” Yuuri insisted, his tail flicking in the shallows, displaying his discomfort. “And besides, we don’t tend to make overtures like that. It’s much preferred that we marry for love, you know.”

“That’s sweet,” Viktor said wistfully. “Land people have other things on their minds before that, I guess.”

“But if you don’t love the person you marry, your life will be lonely,” Yuuri pointed out.

“I know.”

“Do you love anyone?”

Viktor considered it, a matching blush creeping up his own cheeks. “I love a few people, but not in a marriage sense.”

Yuuri looked concerned, so Viktor hurried to reassure him that he would continue to turn down the marriage requests, and their talk moved to more pleasant subjects.

Things continued in this vein for another year, until Viktor was called up to the manor house on the hill to collect his mother, who had suddenly fallen ill.

He and the rest of Yakov’s crew had come back into the harbor and were unloading their day’s catch when a young man with strikingly blond hair and nice, fine clothes suddenly burst onto the dock. “Where’s Viktor?”

Viktor frowned and straightened. “Who’s asking?”

“Yuri Plisetsky,” the youth snapped. “Are you Viktor?”

“I might be,” Viktor said, a bit put-off. “Depends.”

“Does your mother work for my father?” Yuri pointed up at the manor house of the town’s most prosperous merchant, and Viktor began to feel a creeping sense of dread.

“What do you want?” he asked, handing off his net to the nearest empty-handed crewmate.

“Your mother is sick,” Yuri said bluntly. “She’s taken ill, and my father didn’t want to send her home unescorted.”

“Go,” Yakov said from behind him. “You’re done for the day.”

Viktor didn’t hesitate, following the merchant’s son as the teen darted away through the market. The trip up the hill took less time than he could have ever expected, but then he was fighting down a sense of panic as he was let into the grand house.

Mama had been taken to the manor’s drawing room and the lady of the house had made her lay down on a fainting couch, but she seemed to be in good spirits. Viktor was relieved as the merchant’s wife informed him fondly that Mama had tried to insist on going back to work, only to be argued back onto the couch by both the other maids and the merchant’s wife.

“I don’t know why you’re all being so silly,” Mama grumbled as Viktor half-supported, half-carried her to the foyer so that the butler could let them out.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the merchant’s eldest daughter caught sight of them. Viktor didn’t notice her, but nonetheless she immediately became infatuated with him.

He came home the next day to find a letter marked to him waiting on his bed, and he was frowning as he broke the wax seal to open it.

Dearest Mr. Nikiforov,

I realize we have scarcely met before now, but I admit to have been taken with you the other day as I watched you care for your mother, who has been a member of my household since I was very young. She is a valued part of my childhood, and I grew up hearing stories about her hardworking son. I did not realize until now how rare it is to find a man who could treat his mother so tenderly and yet weather the harshness of life at sea with such grace. You are truly remarkable, dearest Viktor. I hope you will forgive my propriety, but I would like to know you better. I hope to make your acquaintance very soon.

Sincerely,

Anna Plisetsky

Viktor folded the elegantly handwritten letter back up with no little sense of dread. He’d never had anyone of such high status take an interest in him, and the very thought made him feel sick to his stomach. He hoped it would turn out to be a passing infatuation, easily forgotten.

It was not. She began to show up in the market, where he was shopping for vegetables to use in a stew. She caught him at the docks, making him late to meet Yuuri for their meal. She sent him invitations to tea on Sunday, and drifted away from her parents at church to join him in the pews.

Viktor would have been flattered, were it not for the fact that he’d given his heart over to the merboy who had been his friend for nearly ten years. He remained polite and cordial with her, not willing to outright refuse her attentions for fear that his mother would be dismissed from her family’s service. But the thought of her never tiring of his overt disinterest in her, of her continued pursuit for his attentions… it made his chest tighten and his stomach twist into knots.

“She’s been hearing stories of me for years, it appears,” Viktor reported grimly as he took lunch with Yuuri on their beach. His sandwich was mostly untouched, his appetite long fled. “She claims to remember when I had my long hair.”

Yuuri looked disquieted, and Viktor was about to ask when the merboy’s shoulders suddenly slumped and he turned his face to the surf. “Can we speak of something else?” he asked, his tone unreadable, and Viktor was both concerned and confused but nonetheless changed the subject to his shipmates and their recent tomfoolery that had made Yakov apoplectic.

But Anna continued to push into his life, trying to make spaces for herself where Viktor hadn’t set aside any. She was persistent, and others around him began to comment on her interest in him. Viktor began to notice sour looks from the other women who had approached him in the past, and his fellow young men griped about how all the girls seemed to chase after him alone.

He didn’t want any of it, he just wanted to be left alone to live his life with his mother and Makkachin and Yuuri. That was all he needed. But a growing sense of dread began to tug at him, and with it a wariness that kept him awake at night, long after the moon had risen.

His fears were realized when he was summoned up to the manor on the hill once more, this time to speak with her father.

“I realize this is out of nowhere,” the merchant said, and Viktor couldn’t bring himself to say no, it isn’t. But the merchant went on, and Viktor felt his blood run cold as the man offered him the chance to captain his own fishing boat, to make him worthy of his only daughter’s hand in marriage.

Viktor’s throat closed up, and he felt his entire body go numb as he said he’d think about it.

He went home and immediately told his mother, who urged him to take the offer.

“Vitya, darling, we would never want for anything again,” she whispered, clasping his hands in her thinner, worn ones.

Viktor closed his eyes. “I don’t love her,” he said.

“You can grow to love her,” Mama insisted, but he knew she was wrong.

That night, when he snuck out to see Yuuri at their beach, he debated not telling the merboy - merman, Yuuri was a boy no more - about the proposal. But Yuuri noticed immediately that Viktor wasn’t himself, and gently but firmly drew it out of him.

“I don’t want to marry her,” Viktor admitted, and Yuuri held his gaze, his dark eyes unwavering. “But I… I don’t think I can afford to refuse.”

“Your mother works for her family,” Yuuri said. Viktor had long since explained the implications of that.

Viktor nodded.

“Why wouldn’t you want to marry her?” the merman asked, looking strangely hopeful.

Viktor closed his eyes. “I could never love her.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Yuuri breathed in sharply, and Viktor looked up to see the awed expression on his friend’s face. “You love me?” Yuuri asked softly.

Viktor nodded, his heart in his throat.

“I… I never thought…” Yuuri’s eyes shimmered, and his smile wavered, but he wove his fingers through Viktor’s and squeezed their hands tightly together. “I love you, too.”

They parted, both with immense joy and sorrow, because Viktor’s confession had come at a terrible time.

Viktor continued to avoid giving an answer to the merchant, and his stepfather began to join his mother in pestering him to accept. He grew melancholy, avoiding meals to keep from vomiting them back up. His nights were restless, devoid of any actual sleep.

Anna Plisetsky continued to find ways to accidentally run into him. She commented on his sudden sickliness.

Young Yuri Plisetsky was waiting one day as Yakov’s boat pulled into port. He caught sight of Viktor and followed him around as the dockhands spun into frenzied activity around them, but the merchant’s son ignored it all. “My sister moons over you to all of her friends,” the youth informed him.

Viktor fought down irritation and focused on his work with the nets. “I’m flattered.”

“She’s confused as to why you haven’t returned any interest,” Yuri went on, as if Viktor hadn’t spoken. “You don’t invite her to tea, you haven’t spoken to our father, and you don’t come by our house to walk your mother home, and she complains about not seeing you more.” He made a disgusted noise.

Viktor privately agreed. “Well, it’s not as if we come from similar worlds,” he said dryly.

Yuri snorted. “Obviously.” He eyed the nets, dyed greenish with seawater, and shuddered. “Still, any man in the village would be tripping over himself to return my sister’s stupid affections. Why are you different?”

Viktor winced as he realized his shipmates were all listening in and sneaking covert glances at him. “I’m afraid of not being a good match for your sister,” he said slowly. “And I wouldn’t want her to feel like she was making a mistake. I’m just a lowly fisherman, you see.” And he was just a lowly fisherman, having refused the position of first mate only a few months prior (which Georgi had been more than happy to accept in his stead.) Prestige meant unwanted attention, which he seemed to be getting in any case.

Yuri looked him up and down with an uncannily appraising eye. “Yes, well, you look too unwell to be even that,” he said shortly. “If you’re so easily sickly, I can’t imagine you can fish effectively.”

“‘Tis just a spell,” Viktor muttered, but he knew better. Anyone could see, as plain as the nose on his face, that he was unhappy and uncomfortable and weary.

Yakov noticed it, of course, and sent him home from the docks the next day before the boat even left port. Viktor didn’t go home, however. He found his way to his and Yuuri’s beach, and sat on the sand, staring out at the water and wishing he didn’t have to choose between his happiness - his love - and the wellbeing of his family.

And then Yuuri’s dark head was popping up out of the surf, and he was smiling. “Viktor!” he called, beckoning him into the waves. “Viktor, I know how to fix everything!”

Viktor went, and Yuuri took his hand and slipped a plain golden ring onto his finger. “Marry me instead,” he said. “Come home with me. My family wants to meet you. They’ve wanted to for years.”

Viktor breathed sharply. “How could I come with you?” he asked, staring at the ring in wonder.

“I can bring you,” Yuuri said. He suddenly turned shy. “Only if you wish to come with me, though.”

And Viktor wanted nothing more. “Yes,” he laughed, dashing sudden tears from his cheeks. “Yes, take me with you!”

“Kiss me,” Yuuri said, and drew him in until their lips touched.

When Yuuri began to move deeper into the ocean, Viktor followed. The water felt warmer, more inviting than it had ever felt before. When his head went under the waves, he found he could still breathe.

Yuuri’s smile was as bright as the sun that they left behind, and with his love’s hand clasped in his, they swam out into the sea.

“Stay away from the shore,” Yuuri’s mother always told him gently. “The land people have long forgotten us, and it is safer for everyone that they never remember.”

Little Yuuri, only a few solar years old, heeded her warnings until he was old enough to feel just a little bit braver than before. He eventually grew brave enough to swim to the surface and poke his head out of the water, trying to spot the land people’s ships on the horizon.

“Yuuri, it’s dangerous!” cried Yuuko, tugging him back down. “Don’t, Yuuri!”

“Do it, Yuuri!” Takeshi said at the same time, eyes glittering with excitement. “Wait, jump out! You’ll get a better look that way!”

“Takeshi!” Yuuko pushed the older merboy, shoving him hard enough to make him yelp. “What if the land people see him?”

“There aren’t any ships around,” Yuuri reported. “I couldn’t see any.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” Yuuko insisted. She took Yuuri’s hand. “Come, let’s go back to the village. Please.”

She pulled him away, Takeshi drifting along in her wake, but Yuuri kept looking back at the shimmering line between sea and the sky above.

“What are land people like?” he asked Minako as she took a break from his lessons. She had traveled the seven seas and met merpeople from all over the world, surely she knew of their neighbors beyond the shores.

Minako frowned and peered at him. “Why are you so interested?”

“They’re interesting,” Yuuri said, curling in on himself. “We were once known to them, right?”

“Yes, but then land people began to war with each other and drew us into it,” Minako informed him. She turned and retrieved a glass orb from her collection, setting it in the holder on her stone table, and waving her hand over it until words began to dance above it. “The dry land kings grew discontent with their land and their riches and began to lust for that of each other,” she read. “And thus the first of the petty wars. As land folk grew in number and invented new technology, so did their reasons for going to war with each other. The holy wars marked the end of alliance between merfolk and land folk, do you see?”

“What’s a holy war?” Yuuri asked, confused.

“When you fight over Gods and such things,” Minako said briskly, retrieving the globe and replacing it on her shelf. “They believe so strongly in their Gods that they would kill each other over them. They have forgotten the philosophies we taught them in their simpler days.”

“How does anyone know that?” Yuuri wondered, drifting over to examine Minako’s tomes.

“I imagine there are those who have gone onto dry land and watched the land people,” Minako said, clearly without thinking, because she winced as Yuuri turned to her with wide eyes.

“We can do that?”

“Just because we can doesn’t mean that we should,” she said firmly. “Now, onto your dance lessons.”

Minako’s accidental slip about merpeople going to land and observing the land people stuck in his mind, and he began to venture closer and closer to the nearest shore, gathering more and more courage as the land people’s ships became more than little dots on the horizon.

Minako took him traveling, and he made friends with other merboys close in age to him as they visited Minako’s colleagues throughout the seas.

“I go up near the beaches all the time,” one such youth, named Phichit, admitted with mischievous glee. “My parents don’t know, but I do!”

Yuuri blinked. “What’s it like?” he asked, fascinated.

“I go to the boring beaches,” Phichit admitted. “There aren’t any land people there. I suppose it’s safer that way. But the sand out of the sea is strange, all sticky and itchy. And the sun is warm once your skin dries off. It feels nice, but if you stay out of the water too long then your skin can get too dry and start to crack, so don’t go all the way out of the sea.”

“What makes you think I’ll go near a beach?” Yuuri asked, making a face.

Phichit wasn’t convinced. “Please,” he scoffed. “Everyone goes to a beach at least once before growing up. We’re all curious.”

And Yuuri couldn’t argue with that.

On their way home back to their village, Minako took a sudden detour near the aquatic shelf. “Come with me,” she said, taking Yuuri’s hand. “I think you’ll find this interesting.”

Yuuri followed her, confused, until he caught sight of a strange shape on the ocean floor. “Oh,” he said in awe as a sunken land people ship came into view. “Oh, wow.”

“Can you believe these things float?” Minako asked, laughing. “Look, but don’t touch. One day, the land people may figure out how to get to it and return to collect what they lost.”

Yuuri got as close as he dared and inspected the wreckage, fascinated by the shattered wood and the scattered contents. “Do you really think that?” he asked.

Minako nodded. “They figured out how to make these things ride the waves,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“What are all these things?” Yuuri asked, gesturing at the things dotting the sea floor and spilling out from the broken ship.

“Land money,” Minako explained. “And things they trade for it.”

Yuuri took a while longer to explore the sunken ship, but eventually Minako called to him and they resumed their journey home.

If the little detour to the land people ship was meant to sate Yuuri’s curiosity in regards to the land people, it only served to inspire more.

As Yuuko and Takeshi began to flirt with both each other and with potential adult disciplines, Yuuri found himself venturing out of their village and closer to the shallows with every passing week. One day, he gathered enough courage to go all the way up to the shore, avoiding the places where the land people ships clustered by the wooden beaches. Those he observed from afar.

It was just like Phichit said, Yuuri reflected as he drew up into the shallows and let the waves buffet him around a little. The beach was quiet, and no land people were in sight. Yuuri was attempting to examine the strange land plants from a distance when sudden movement made him duck back down into the surf.

He swam a ways away and poked his head out of the water, and to his shock he laid eyes on his first-ever land person.

He couldn’t tell if the land person was a boy or a girl, but they looked young. Accompanying them was a strange, soft-looking creature that reminded him somewhat of a sea lion. It even barked like a sea lion, too.

Yuuri watched, fascinated, as the land youth explored the beach and picked up various objects to examine. Suddenly, the youth’s head turned and Yuuri realized that the land person was staring right at him.

“Hello?” the land youth called, and Yuuri ducked back into the water, heart racing.

He waited for a long moment, watching the shallows for the hint of someone wading into the water to investigate, and when he reemerged a little further out, he saw the land youth had returned to his exploring and hadn’t chased after him.

Yuuri drew a little closer, feeling bolder, and got a good look at the land youth.

Their hair was so bright it was almost white, and their skin was pale like the inside of an empty shell. They looked so small and skinny, Yuuri wondered if land people were all thin like that. Maybe they grew thicker with age.

Something in him grew warm at the sight of the land youth as they sat down on the sand with the strange land creature. Yuuri fought down a desire to swim closer and call out. He remembered his mother’s warnings and Minako’s tomes and decided against it.

Eventually, the sky grew dark and the land youth began to brush off their clothes, and then disappeared over the sandy hill into the mass of strange trees. The land youth’s odd animal companion followed, barking excitedly.

Yuuri wondered if the land youth would return to the same beach again.

The next day, when Yuuri arrived at the beach, the land youth was already there. They were eating some strange land food and playing with their pet animal, and Yuuri watched with fascination as the sea breeze played with the youth’s silvery hair and made it dance like the banners on the land people ships that dotted the horizon.

Yuuri returned to the beach almost every day after that, once he’d finished up his lessons with Minako and his chores for his parents. His family had chosen to live near the hot water vents, and had set up a little business for merfolk who wanted to bask in the warmth that flowed from them.

The land youth was always there when the sun was highest, and the air began to grow warmer every time Yuuri surfaced. This pattern continued until one day, Yuuri saw the land youth collapse on the beach, looking winded and hungry.

Maybe land people were all naturally that lean, but Yuuri couldn’t stand the idea of this beautiful person possibly starving, so once again he gathered his courage and drew closer to the shore.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and blinked at how his voice sounded outside the water.

The land youth jerked in surprise, and jumped to their feet. They looked shocked to see Yuuri so close, and Yuuri realized that they probably couldn’t see his tail.

“Where did you come from?” the land youth asked, seeming confused.

Yuuri gestured out to the sea, confusing the land youth even more, but they eventually caught on.

“You’re from the sea,” the land youth said, drawing closer to him.

“I’m Yuuri,” he said, before he could grow frightened and swim away.

“I’m Viktor,” the land youth answered, sitting down in the surf, and they were even more beautiful up close.

Viktor was a land boy, Yuuri discovered. And then he discovered what fire was, and how land people ate their fish, and what dogs felt like when you ran your fingers through their fur.

Yuuri tried to teach Viktor how to swim, and was fascinated with how the land boy’s legs kicked in the water compared to how his tail did.

Viktor was funny and made him laugh, and Yuuri made Viktor laugh in turn. It was like being with Phichit, or Yuuko and Takeshi, only this was special. This was a land boy.

“Can we be friends?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri was overjoyed.

They parted ways when the daylight drew to an end, with plans to meet again the next day. It felt like someone had captured the sun and placed it in Yuuri’s chest, and he carried that feeling with him all the way home.

Land people food was delicious. Cheese was an interesting treat, even if it made Yuuri’s stomach a little queasy the hours following, and land animal meat was very different from fish. Yuuri watched with fascination as Viktor demonstrated how to build a fire, and tried a cooked fish for himself. It was very different from how merpeople prepared their fish, but still very tasty.

Viktor continued to tell him about life in his land village, and Yuuri in turn told him about his own home and family. Every day brought a new experience, a new adventure. It was exciting, and fun; Yuuri grew to care immensely for Viktor and Makkachin, and looked forward to their meetings. There were days every week where Viktor was much later, he called those days “sun-days” and explained the concept of church to Yuuri, who recalled Minako’s “holy wars” comments and wondered if the land people were quite done with all of that.

And then one day, Viktor didn’t show up.

Yuuri stayed in the shallows, fighting down panic, as the sun reached its peak in the sky and Viktor continued to be missing. Had something happened to him? Land people were as fragile as merpeople, what if an accident had occurred? What if Viktor was hurt?

What if he was gone?

The idea made his heart feel like it was bleeding, and Yuuri refused to entertain it.

When Viktor finally appeared, looking like he’d run all the way to the beach, Yuuri almost cried out in relief. And then came the news that Viktor would now have to work every day, except for his sun-days.

Yuuri’s disappointment knew no bounds, but he understood Viktor’s dilemma; by then, Viktor had explained his family’s arrangements and financial problems to Yuuri, and Yuuri’s heart ached for this land boy whom he’d only known for a few moons but still felt incredibly attached to. He kissed Viktor’s cheek and promised to watch for him, hoping that they would still be able to be friends.

Viktor was true to his word and returned as often as he could, and Yuuri met him each time. Some days, Viktor was able to bring Makkachin, but most days he was not. The land boy took his lunches on the beach with Yuuri, safely sequestered away from the docks that Yuuri was growing to resent. He wished there was a way to make Viktor’s life easier.

Then, he recalled the sunken ship.

One day, he swam out to the shelf and plunged down into the ruined hull, plundering it for something - anything - of value. He emerged with a shiny coin that reminded him of the sun, and he hurried to the beach with his bounty.

That was the day that Viktor’s beautiful hair was chopped off, and Yuuri mourned it with him. He pressed the coin into his friend’s hand, and watched the land boy’s eyes light up in delight. Yuuri decided to bring the rest of the shipwreck’s treasures to Viktor, little by little, if it made his life just a bit better.

Viktor remained a constant in Yuuri’s life, but as the solar years began to pass and Yuuri began to grow up, his family started asking questions of him.

Eventually, Yuuri could not hide his activities anymore. And that was because Yuuko followed him to the shore.

He parted ways with Viktor, who was growing taller and more muscular everyday - more handsome, Yuuri’s traitorous mind would whisper - and was about to swim back to his village when he nearly ran right into his childhood friend.

“Yuuri!” she hissed, grabbing onto his shoulders and shaking him. “W-was that a-- a land person?!”

“No?” Yuuri squeaked, but Yuuko stared at him. “Maybe?”

“He had legs, Yuuri.”

“Yes?”

Yuuko was horrified. “What were you thinking, Yuuri? You know how dangerous land people are!”

Yuuri pulled away from her, curling in on himself. “He’s been my friend for years, Yuuko. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Years?!” she repeated, aghast.

“His name is Viktor,” Yuuri said stubbornly. “He lives with his mother and his pet dog Makkachin, and he works on a fishing boat, and he would never hurt me.”

Yuuko was speechless.

“So you don’t have to worry,” Yuuri added, swimming past her so he could make his way home.

Yuuko snapped out of her stupor. “I’m telling your mother,” she said, and shot past him.

Yuuri yelped and chased after her.

The village was in an uproar when the news of Yuuri’s friendship with a land boy made its way through the gossip channels. Minako burst her way into Yuuri’s family’s home and proceeded to alternately berate him and demand answers of him, which he bore as calmly as he could (not that calmly at all.)

His family seemed disappointed in him for breaking one of their people’s oldest rules, but they were strangely calm throughout all the madness that followed Yuuko’s revelation. Eventually, the village elders made their way into the family’s abode, and Yuuri was left to squirm uncomfortably in front of them.

Rika, the most senior of the council of elders, was so very old. Yuuri had never known her to leave her tiny home, set into the walls of the underwater cliffs nearest the very peak of the valley. She was helped along by two of her descendants, whom Yuuri knew in passing. While she moved slowly, her eyes were still sharp and trained upon him.

Yuuri gulped.

It wasn’t Rika who spoke first, but Hainu. He wasn’t quite as old as Rika, but he was Minako’s senior, and the most authoritative one of them all.

“Yuuri, child of Toshiya and Hiroko.”

Yuuri shrank against the floor of his family’s home, but couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“You have disregarded one of our people’s most sacred laws--”

“Not a law, quite,” Rika finally spoke up, dark eyes glimmering.

Hainu and the other elders shot her a warning look, and she raised her eyebrows at them.

“A sacred rule--” Hainu began, only to be interrupted again.

“To be sure, ‘tis only really a guideline,” Rika said mildly.

“Auntie,” Hainu, sounding annoyed, turned to the elderly merwoman. “May I please continue?”

Rika’s face remained impassive. She blinked and allowed herself to drift back against her descendants.

“You have broken tradition, Son of Toshiya and Hiroko,” Hainu finally was able to finish. He turned to Yuuri again. “What do you have to say in your defense?”

“I--”

“It’s my fault,” Minako spoke up from the corner of the abode, where she and the rest of Yuuri’s family had been shooed aside. “I fostered these interests, instead of discouraging.”

“I am certain, Teacher Minako, that you did your best to impart the dangers of the Land Folk onto your pupils over the years,” Hainu answered. “The question is, what has this one in particular wrought, especially with all of Mer-kind in the balance?”

Yuuri felt all the blood leaving his face. He looked from grim face to grim face. “All of Mer-kind?”

“The Land Folk forgot about us,” said one of the other elders, a merwoman named Akari. “Did you believe that this one would keep our existence a secret?”

“But he has!” Yuuri burst out, forgetting his place. “He could have told the world over about me, but he hasn’t! His own family prods him constantly, and he still keeps me a secret.”

“You cannot trust Land Folk,” said Hainu. “We’ve seen their ships, sunken in wars unnumbered. We remember the Burning Days, when their fires consumed all of the world’s knowledge. Centuries of learning untold, lost forever due to their greed and avarice.”

“But this one is content to eat fish with me and sit in the surf,” Yuuri insisted. “We talk, we play, and he never speaks of it to anyone. It’s been like this for years, would I have not been captured by now if he had told of me to another on the land?”

“Years?” Rika asked, drifting forward again. “Years, you say? Speak up, boy.”

Yuuri swallowed his fear and nodded. “Years, Auntie. Since the solar year of sunfish.”

“Hm.” Rika said, pursing her lips. “And your tail has begun to turn. You were still a wee one, in the year of the sunfish.”

Yuuri nodded again, as the other elders began to whisper among themselves.

“This land boy,” Rika was examining him again, perhaps finding him wanting. “You said he joins you on the beach just to talk?”

“We tell each other about our worlds,” Yuuri admitted. “He’s fascinated by our way of life here, and his land customs are just as interesting.” Not to mention the food, and the music that Viktor would hum for Yuuri while cooking the meals they shared.

“An information exchange?” Rika asked, and Yuuri couldn’t read her tone. “That’s all?”

“He’s my friend,” Yuuri said softly. “He makes me laugh on days when I don’t want to. I’m excited to see him.”

Rika tilted her head back in triumph. “A friend. Interesting.”

“Not this again,” Hainu grumbled, but Rika shushed him and gestured to her escorts.

“This is one of our oldest prophecies,” she said, as her descendant reached into his pouch and withdrew a reading-orb. “It is one that foretells the changing of the tides, of sorrows and joy. It has never been wrong.”

An almanac? Yuuri’s gaze was drawn immediately to the white-gold glow of the orb as Rika waved her hand over it, waking it up.

Words he couldn’t read, of Merfolk and Land Folk long gone, danced around the orb like the fireflies that had come out in the summertime. Rika began to intone deep, shivery words in an ancient tongue. It felt like the ground was shaking underneath them.

“And so, with the union of a land-child and a mer-child, shall the healing of two worlds begin,” Rika began to chant, and the words spun like dancers around the room. “The course of history shall forever alter, and should love prevail, all of mankind will be saved.”

“Saved from what?” Minako wondered, seemingly half-terrified.

“From decay, and ruin, and a slow death of deprivation,” Rika answered, saddening. “For we are but two halves of one whole people, and one cannot exist without the other.”

“Yuuri accidentally kickstarted a prophecy?” Mari muttered in disbelief, and Yuuri blushed in response.

“Accident?” Rika sniffed. “This is fated.”

“We cannot prove this,” Hainu argued.

Rika rolled her eyes and put the orb back to sleep. “Has the prophecy ever been mistaken?”

Hainu looked pained, but he eventually admitted, “it has not.”

“I knew this day would come,” Rika said in glee. “I had hoped to live to see it.”

Yuuri blushed even harder. All of this is falling on me? On Viktor and me?

It couldn’t be.

But the elders stayed for a bit longer, arguing and discussing, speaking to Yuuri’s family and to Minako. A decision was made, and Yuuri was shocked when at last, he was given his people’s blessing to continue his friendship with his land boy.

Even so, had the elders had forbidden him, he still would have gone to Viktor. Always.

Minako’s lessons resumed, with orders from the council that Yuuri would be trained in the ways of magic. “There will come a day,” Rika had promised. “You’ll be glad for these skills.”

Yuuri’s days took on a peculiar rhythm from then on. His lessons with his mentor would start before anyone else in the village was awake, when Minako judged that the moon above the sea had reached its zenith, and would end shortly after dawn. She began to drill him in all manners of spells and speaking, imparting history and philosophy and languages when he grew too weary to summon the energy to create light to read by. His dance lessons were neglected, as were trade lessons that would have fallen to his family to provide.

He would leave his mentor’s abode exhausted and fall asleep as the village began to whirl into its daily routine, with the fish farmers selling their livestock and kelp harvesters presenting their wares in the market, the children under-fin and nicking neglected bits of food when no one was looking; stonemasons built houses for new families, sculptors and artisans created art to memorialize the ages long past, and Yuuri’s family opened the hot water vents to the weary workers when they finish their duties.

And then the sun reached its peak in the sky, and Yuuri would rouse himself to swim to the surface and reunite with his beloved Viktor. He did not speak of the prophecy to his friend, afraid that the very idea of fated meetings may chase the land-boy away.

Yuuri’s life under the sea was changing; Yuuko and Takeshi joined together to create a family, and soon welcomed three rambunctious mer-girls into the world. The years continued to pass, and Yuuri’s family supported him as he continued his studies and shed his baby-scales to reveal the familial gold that his parents and sister bore.

Viktor kept growing up as well. Love, the prophecy had said, and yet Yuuri feared that love would be the most difficult part of it to achieve.

Love, but Viktor surely was surrounded with prospects of all sorts, of the proper variety? Land girls, Yuuri couldn’t help but think as he tossed and turned on bad nights. Surely Viktor isn’t wanting for land girls to spend time with.

But Viktor didn’t seem interested in love of that kind. He seemed to realize how distraught that made Yuuri, and took pains to avoid mentioning it. For that, Yuuri supposed he was grateful.

And then came the day that Viktor’s mother took ill at her work.

This day had to come, Yuuri thought as a cold, sick feeling filled his stomach. Viktor seemed ashamed, to have attracted the attention of a potential wife.

He remembered telling Viktor of the marriage customs of the Mer, and didn’t dare to hope.

If this is what is best for him, I should not disparage him, Yuuri decided, and said “can we speak of something else?”

For at his heart, Yuuri was afraid. And sometimes, fear was enough to sour even the sweetest of prophecies.

It didn’t even take a seven-day, for things to turn worse. When Viktor came to their beach, shoulders slumped and face drawn and paler than usual, Yuuri knew immediately that things had changed again.

He understood the way dowries worked, how land people wished for their children to mingle with successful peers, but never had he heard of a land girl doing something like this to secure a husband. Then again, Viktor had carefully avoided the marriage circuit; perhaps such things were common in other land villages?

Yuuri listened with a sinking heart as Viktor described his mother’s enthusiasm for the… transaction, and considered the fact that Viktor would never again have to rely on Yuuri’s meager gifts of gold coins scrounged up from shipwrecks.

“I don’t want to marry her,” Viktor admitted, and Yuuri couldn’t stop the surge of hope filling his chest.

But he didn’t dare do more than hope. “Why?”

“Because I could never love her.”

Could… it be?

“Because I love you.”

Yuuri had never known such warmth before, not even the sun or the fire could compare. Oh, he thought, breathing in. So this is “love”.

It was… wonderful.

“I love you too,” he told Viktor, and the answering smile made his world even brighter.

Of course, that wouldn’t solve everything.

After they parted, Viktor for his bed and Yuuri for Minako’s home, Yuuri woke his mentor up with giddiness that he’d never felt before.

“He loves me, sensei!” The words still felt strange to say, but he couldn’t stop them tumbling from his tongue. “He loves me. Oh, I feel so warm.”

“And what of you?” Minako asked, clasping Yuuri’s hands. “How do you feel, Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked at his teacher, his mentor, a merwoman almost like an aunt to him. “I feel warm,” he said, unable to stop smiling.

“Yuuri,” Minako squeezed his wrists. “Tell me. What do you feel?”

“Of course I love him,” he answered, because that is what Minako wished to know. “Of course.”

Minako finally smiled to match him. “Then we must bring him here.”

Yuuri froze. “Here? To the village.”

“To marry you instead.”

Yuuri almost protested, but…

But.

How many years had Yuuri bitten back acrid words of jealousy whenever Viktor mentioned another courting offer? How many years had he longed to chase away those who would take Viktor from him?

He could be mine, Yuuri thought as his heart raced in his chest. And I could be his. And we could be in love.

“How can I do it?” he asked, and Minako grinned and let go of his hands.

“We must prepare,” she said, and declared the moon risen.

Yuuri and Minako spent their time together over the next few weeks working the most complicated spell Yuuri had ever done, a spell to bridge life on land to life in the sea.

“To be sealed with a kiss,” Minako added, as the ball of light and sparks and power floated over their heads. “We will be finished tonight, on the eve of the new moon. Yuuri, go home and tell your parents you will bring home your bridegroom soon. I’ll handle the elders.”

The spell slowly descended over him, and he breathed it in as it filled his very core.

I can bring you with me, he thought longingly of his land boy - of the man above who had stolen his heart. But I only wish that it were your wish, too.

He brought the news home to his parents, who had been anticipating this moment with great eagerness. Even Mari seemed excited in her own way.

“He’d best be good to you,” she said, playing with one of her shark tooth necklaces. “Or else I’ll chase him out of this village and into the trench.”

“Mari-nechan,” Yuuri complained, but then it was time for him to leave.

“Bring home your beloved!” his mother said as she was sending him off. She pressed a simple gold ring into his palm. “We’ll be waiting here.”

And then Yuuri was swimming for the surface, the sunlight making the ring sparkle in his hand.

Soon.

Yuuri’s family was as welcoming as Yuuri had promised. Viktor found himself falling in love with the lot of them, Yuuri’s parents and sister, and his aunt and his cousins and nieces, and the entire village of merpeople who came to greet them. They lived in underwater dwellings that reminded him of the ones on land, and had very simple but pleasant lives. Viktor was immediately put at ease by the pace of life underwater, so much calmer than the land above. At least, as it appeared to him.

Yuuri’s mother pulled him aside and presented him with a ring to match the one her son had slipped onto Viktor’s finger. “I’m not quite sure how your people may do this,” she said, closing his fingers around the ring.

“We do this too,” Viktor had reassured her, and she’d beamed at him.

He and Yuuri were married by the village elders, and it felt as if his heart would swell enough to burst from his chest.

There were some adjustments to make, and some glaring differences to get used to in order to live under the sea. Viktor quickly discarded a great deal of his clothes, keeping only his trousers for his modesty, and found himself spending an awful lot of time inside the family’s abode, where little glowing orbs provided light and warmth. Yuuri appeared to be quite the spellcaster underwater, and enchanted more of those little orbs to follow Viktor around when he began to venture outside into the village. People began to recognize him because of all of the light he brought, and that made him laugh.

Yuuri’s family excitedly began to teach him the ways of their people, which of course shared quite a few similarities to the customs of the land he’d left behind. He began to prepare food with Yuuri’s mother - and uncooked fish was quite a thing to get used to, but he found he rather enjoyed the taste, especially when coupled with the interesting plants that grew around the village. Yuuri’s father introduced him to the hot vents, which were a bit too hot for Viktor to endure directly, but he found that he still benefited from indirect exposure. After years of working on the docks until his bones felt ready to crumble, his muscles needed the relaxation.

Viktor was quite popular with the village children, especially Yuuri’s nieces. While the girls’ parents weren’t actually Yuuri’s relatives, they clearly thought of Yuuri as an uncle and did the same with Viktor. Yuuko and Takeshi were pleasant to Viktor as well, asking him questions of his life very similarly to how Yuuri had so many years ago.

However, it was Minako that fascinated Viktor the most. The woman had been training Yuuri since he was old enough to dance for her, and watching the two of them work magic in her home was nothing short of breathtaking. Spells for plentiful harvests and for bountiful fishing, spells for love and happiness, spells for health and fertility… Viktor had never known Yuuri to be so knowledgeable in such astounding arts.

I wonder, Viktor thought, if the holy men of the land feared these magics because they couldn’t do them as well?

How silly they had to have been, if that were the case.

He himself had no talent for what Yuuri did, but he still loved to watch his husband - his husband - working his craft under the moon, yet far away from its light.

He wanted for nothing, but after a while a deep ache began to creep in. He began to miss his mother, and Makkachin, and even old Yakov and his fishing crew. But he swallowed it down and didn’t speak of it.

Quite some time into his stay - he’d lost count of the blissful days and nights, quite early on if he were being honest - it finally came out as to why Viktor’s arrival in the village had been so momentous.

He was curled up with Yuuri in their private living space, Yuuri dozing against his chest, when a few members of the council of elders arrived at the family’s abode and requested his audience. He left his husband to sleep as he made his way out into the common area.

The elderly merwoman Rika was waiting for him, along with a merman that introduced himself as Enki. Rika was accompanied by her grandchildren, and the elder herself looked a bit smug if Viktor was being honest with himself.

“So you are the one,” she said, her voice familiar and soft like the waves lapping at the sand. “How lovely.”

“Yes,” he said, because he was quite proud to have become husband to such a fine man. “I quite agree, he is lovely. My Yuuri, I mean.”

“Oh, dear boy,” Rika laughed. “I will not deny that young Yuuri is quite the catch, but you yourself seem hardly aware of how remarkable you are.”

Remarkable?

“Not many of your brethren on land would have kept our secret,” Enki said, fixing Viktor with a long, steady look. “Even fewer would willingly follow one of us Merfolk down into the depths, the unknown.”

“I trust Yuuri,” Viktor said. Had these past few weeks been nothing but a dream, only to be snatched away by some nefarious plot? “And I know my people would have been confused in the least at the very thought of a place like this.”

“Remarkable,” Rika repeated. She produced another glowing orb that Viktor recognized as a Merfolk “book” and activated it it, producing letters that were only barely familiar to him. “Did you know that the love you and Yuuri share was foretold by our common ancestors?”

And that was new. “I did not,” Viktor said slowly, confused.

“You are fated,” the elder merwoman said, pointing to the text. “Fated, to bridge the land and the sea and bring harmony to our peoples. You and Yuuri, you were born to change the course of history.”

Viktor thought about his husband, asleep in the next room, and could easily imagine Yuuri’s nerves at discovering such a thing. That explained why Yuuri had never mentioned this to him before. “I… I didn’t know that.”

“Of course not,” Enki answered. “But now you are aware.”

Rika was still grinning like the cat that had gotten the cream. “Surely you’ve known all along, that you had something special within you?” she pressed.

Viktor laughed and shrugged. “I suppose,” he said honestly. “But I always thought that it was Yuuri bringing that out from me.”

“I told you,” Rika elbowed Enki, who finally smiled for the first time and shook his head.

“But why would you bring this up to me now?” Viktor wondered.

Rika folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him, but her eyes were soft as they met Viktor’s. “Dear boy, please be honest with me. You seem to carry a sadness within you.”

Oh.

“I wish I could see my family just once more,” Viktor admitted. “If only to tell my mother I’m all right. I left suddenly, without a word to her. Surely it’s been long enough that she may think me dead.”

“You are not bound to this village,” Enki said. “There’s no reason you can’t return to your home on land.”

Viktor’s mouth dropped open, a reflex that made Rika roar with laughter.

“I… I could?” he asked, and the elders confirmed it.

It was more than Viktor could have hoped, but…

But Yuuri.

Yuuri and his family had opened their home to him, welcomed him into their lives and their village without a single complaint. They had accepted him, albeit helped by this prophecy of the elders’, and he’d become part of them just as they had become a part of him.

They were his family now, too.

“Of course, there is a condition,” Enki interrupted Viktor’s thoughts.

Viktor blinked as Yuuri joined them, still blinking away the remnants of his nap. “Conditions?” he echoed.

Yuuri curled up at Viktor’s side, clasping their hands together as the elders acknowledged him.

“There are always conditions,” Rika said kindly. “And due to the importance of what you represent, these are what will ultimately decide what you will do.”

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri looked up at him, still sleepy. “Did you know this?”

“Know…?”

“That it was possible for me to return to the surface?”

Yuuri hummed softly. “Minako and I discussed it,” he admitted. “But not very much.”

“Your mentor is well-versed, my boy,” Rika said. “But this is not something she will fully understand.”

“Your marriage must be tested,” Enki gestured at the text still shimmering around them. “It has been decreed, by the seers who wrote this tome, that you will weather these tests both together and apart.”

Yuuri was scanning the writing, somewhat blearily, as the elder continued to speak.

“For three years, you both shall commit to the land. You shall build your lives there, and cohabitate until the end of the third year. Then you must return to the sea and build your lives here, and do the same. At the end of the sixth year, you must separate.”

Yuuri’s hand tightened in Viktor’s, and he felt the merman cling even closer to him.

“You must spend a year apart, land-dweller on land and merman at sea, and then on that final day you may be reunited. Afterwards, you may come and go as you please.”

Viktor’s mind was whirring. Seven years of this, of being separated from one’s family and then each other? Surely Viktor could live with himself if he remained here and didn’t return to his home.

And how would Yuuri go about joining him on the land, if they ended up going? Of course, if it meant Viktor would carry his husband wherever he needed to go, he would do it. But…

But other land people could be cruel or even dangerous, he reasoned. No, much better to stay here with Yuuri, where the merman was in his element and surrounded by his family.

But Yuuri was looking at him, his dark eyes shining like jewels in the light of the orb, and he was smiling softly. “I should think,” he said, squeezing Viktor’s hand again, “that if those six years were to be spent with you, I could do it.” He looked away, suddenly demure. “But only if you wish it.”

“I would rather keep you by my side for every minute of every day,” Viktor admitted. “Even if it meant never seeing my mother ever again.”

“Then let me give you this,” Yuuri urged him. “And you shall give me these seven years, and then we will be free to do as we please.”

Viktor was taken aback by his husband’s generosity.

“Please, Viktor,” Yuuri said, and Viktor answered that he would consider it.

Yuuri’s mother had been lurking, and as they saw the elders off from their home, she drew Viktor aside. “Darling,” she said, her hand warm on his shoulder. “Do you wish it?”

Viktor swallowed, and decided to be honest. “So very much,” he admitted.

“I think that Yuuri would not be angry with you if you wished to go to your mother,” she pointed out, smiling in that way that reminded Viktor so much of his husband. “After all, you’ve come here to become part of our family, have you not? There must be give and take in all marriages.”

Viktor saw her blessing for what it was, and that night, while they were alone, they again discussed the trial for what it would mean for them.

It had been almost a decade for them, nearly ten years of always being by each other’s sides. Ten years of assurances, of never going longer than a day apart. And yet it was that one year of separation frightened Viktor; one year where he wouldn’t have his husband before him to cherish and to hold. It was too much to bear.

But Yuuri held stubbornly onto him and pressed their foreheads together. “But we can do it,” he promised. “We can do it for each other.”

After a night of this, of whispering and holding onto each other, they made the decision to embark on this tribulation together. And Viktor hoped and prayed, as Yuuri left for Minako’s home to prepare for the journey, that those seven years would pass by like a heartbeat.

In the days after the village elders’ visit, Viktor began to prepare for the trek back to his homeland. He found the clothes he’d arrived in - to his surprise, they had held up quite well - as Yuuri’s parents presented Yuuri with garments of his own. On the third day, Yuuri came home from his worktime with Minako, and they rested one last time together before the full moon rose.

They departed shortly after that, the entire village bidding them farewell, and swam back to the shore hand-in-hand. Viktor kissed Yuuri once more, for reassurance, and then emerged onto the beach, laughing as the sun warmed his face.

Yuuri took a bit longer, as he took a moment in the surf to remove a small vial from his belongings and break it open. Viktor watched in shock as the merman pulled himself from the water, and his tail began to split into soft, pale legs.

“My god,” Viktor breathed as he knelt next to his husband. “When were you going to tell me of this little trick, beloved?”

Yuuri smiled, still shaky from the transformation. “Surprise,” he said, and then Viktor had to help him stand.

His first few steps were taken while clinging tightly to Viktor’s arm, his newly formed legs unsteady and trembling, and it took some time before he was able to stand alone so that Viktor could help him dress in the shining robes that his parents had sent along.

“Of course,” Yuuri added as Viktor was struggling back into his damp shirt of months past. “My parents sent with me a dowry as well.”

Viktor laughed as he finally settled himself, and then took Yuuri’s hand to lead him home.

They began to walk to Viktor’s family home, drying off as they went. The lovers passed through the woods, long since blossomed into its summer canopies, and through the fields, already gold with their bounty. Viktor led the way down the familiar path to the village outskirts, and they did not meet anyone as they walked. Every sight was brand new to Yuuri, who gasped at the revelation of every tree, every animal, every building that they encountered. Viktor couldn’t help but see his everyday homeland with new eyes as his husband’s lovely face was wreathed in joy upon every discovery.

Perhaps this will be all right.

When they drew up to the door of his tiny childhood home, Viktor hesitated. It took reassurance from Yuuri before Viktor finally knocked.

His mother answered, and screamed when she saw him. Makkachin jumped up onto him and knocked him and Yuuri both down, pouncing on Viktor and covering his face in sloppy licks. It was quite honestly the best homecoming he’d ever received, even as he laughingly fought to sit up.

“I thought you dead,” Mama cried, throwing his arms around him and sobbing into his neck.

“I’m so sorry to have worried you,” Viktor said, embracing her tightly. Something that had been off-kilter for so long within him finally settled back into its proper place, and Viktor felt at peace.

Mama held him for a long while before she came to her senses and realized she had another guest as well. “Who--?”

“Mama,” Viktor said, helping his husband to his feet. “This is Yuuri.”

She looked at them in confusion, like a philosopher deciphering a question of life and love, before her eyes were drawn to their rings. “Yuuri.”

Viktor nodded. “I got married,” he said. “We have lived in the sea, with his family.”

“The sea?” Mama asked in confusion. “You live on a boat?”

“No, in the sea, Mama.”

“But… how?”

“I can explain,” Yuuri said in a timid voice, “if you would allow me to.”

Mama took a deep breath before nodding, and then she tugged them both into the kitchen, settling them at the well-worn kitchen table. Makkachin put her head in Yuuri’s lap as the merman began to tell their story.

Viktor’s mother was in tears as she began to work out the secret truth to everything Viktor had done for the past ten years, from the long days at the beach to the odd disappearances at night. She dropped to her knees to thank Yuuri for his gifts of sunken treasure, back before they had been able to sustain themselves.

Once they reached the end of their tale, Yuuri taking the time to explain their seven-year trial, Mama was clearly as besotted with her new son-in-law as Viktor had been for years. After a long moment, during which Viktor hurriedly made tea to help settle her nerves, Mama began to explain what Viktor had missed.

So many things had happened since he’d disappeared into the sea, he found out. For starters, he had been gone for four months, which shocked him quite a bit. But what Mama said next did not shock him at all.

“Ivan is dead,” she said, tracing the familiar grain on the kitchen table. “He drank himself to death one night, stumbled in the road on the way home from the pub. He just fell over and didn’t get back up.” She seemed to weary for tears, and Viktor squeezed her hand.”I had to return to work,” she added, “and poor Makka has been so very lonely. It’s been just the two of us here, and the house feels too big.”

“I’m so sorry,” Viktor murmured again. His heart broke at the thought of his mother enduring such loneliness while he’d been surrounded by love in Yuuri’s village.

Mama smiled tearily at him, and moved on to more pleasant things. For example, the merchant’s daughter had mourned Viktor before being properly courted and then engaged to Georgi. They appeared very happy together, but Mama had overheard young Yuri Plisetsky complain about them quite often. The thought brought a smile to Viktor’s face.

“But enough of me, tell me of you,” Mama finally said. “What will you do now?”

Viktor looked to Yuuri, who was letting his tea cool off until he was used to the concept of drinking warm water. The merman was playing with Makkachin’s ears and marveling at the softness of the poodle’s dry fleece. Viktor couldn’t help but allow a lovestruck smile to steal over his face.

“We’ll build a house,” he decided. “A little bit bigger, and we’ll build it by the sea. I can go back to working the docks, perhaps invest in a fishing boat of my own. Maybe I will work alongside Yakov again, I have missed the old man. We will spend the next three years together as we planned, and then I will have to leave you once more so that I may spend those three years with Yuuri’s family. And then I will return to weather the year of separation alone.”

“You shall not be alone,” Mama promised. “I will help you during these times.”

Yuuri gave Viktor a smile, just a little bit smug. Viktor had to laugh at that.

They broke bread together, for their long journey had taken a toll on them, and rested a little bit longer before returning to the beach. While they had gone from the shoreline, a small chest had washed up in the surf. Viktor hauled home the chest with Yuuri’s dowry, and then the three land years began.

It was not a simple time.

At one point during the construction of their home, Yuuri drew the ire of the village girls who had chased after Viktor for so many years. It apparently became a regular occurrence for him to encounter hostility from them, and from their mothers, as he ventured out into the Land Folk town with only Makkachin for company.

Viktor was unaware of this, for Yuuri’s pride kept his husband from confiding in him, but he was made aware of it at the same time that he discovered that his husband had befriended Yuri Plisetsky.

He was walking through the market on business when he heard the teenage boy shouting at someone, and was drawn by his curiosity to the scene. To his surprise, he saw the younger boy standing defensively in front of Yuuri, who had fallen to the ground somehow and scattered his purchases all about him.

Viktor immediately began to help him clean up, as Yuuri refused to meet his eyes in shame. “Darling,” he begged. “What happened?”

Yuuri shook his head, but little Yuri Plisetsky would not let that pass.

“The village dolts--” he glared at the trio of young woman that Viktor vaguely remembered from their attempted courtships, “they decided it would be a funny prank to knock your husband’s basket from his hands and push him to the ground.”

Viktor flushed scarlet with anger. “Oh, so they have?”

The girls glared at him as well, and Yuuri shrank against his side.

“Please, Viktor, they did not harm me. I am unhurt.”

“But they’ve done this before,” Viktor said. “To you, my beloved husband who has done them no wrong.”

One of the girls sneered, as if she wished to argue that point, but backed away at the heat of Yuri Plisetsky’s fury.

“If you have a problem with this idiot’s husband,” Yuri snarled, brandishing a hand at Viktor and Yuuri, “then you have a problem with me. And I can make it so that you’ll never get a marriage offer so long as you live!”

The girls all squeaked in terror and fled, and Viktor drew Yuuri into his arms to soothe him.

It turned out that only the village bachelorettes had been sore at Yuuri, for the rest of the townsfolk immediately pressed in to offer their comfort as well. One matron offered to accompany Yuuri on any future shopping expeditions, and several others invited him and Viktor to dine with their families in the coming days. Yuuri seemed overwhelmed with the outpouring of support, so Viktor thanked them all and promised to seek each one out before taking Yuuri’s basket and walking his husband home.

Yuri Plisetsky tagged along, just to make sure that Yuuri was truly well, before breaking off to disappear back into the town.

“The little kitten has taken a liking to you,” Viktor commented, but Yuuri didn’t answer. Viktor decided to leave him be while he absorbed the afternoon’s events.

The next day, as Viktor continued helping with the construction of the house, Yuuri kept to himself in Viktor’s childhood bedroom. It was only much later, after the other builders had left, that Yuuri finally reappeared, picking his way over to where Viktor still worked.

Viktor stopped as his husband drew near, and they both ended up on their beach once more.

“I thought…” Yuuri hesitated, but pressed on. “I thought I could weather it, the townspeople’s feelings towards me. But…” and tears began to stream down his face, which surprised him. Viktor reasoned he’d never truly cried before. “But… I couldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Viktor said softly, trying to draw Yuuri into an embrace, but his husband pushed him away.

Viktor waited, but even though Yuuri cried himself out, he was still unsettled and refused to touch Viktor for hours afterward.

In the weeks following the incident, the townspeople went out of their way to welcome Yuuri into their midst. Their acceptance and companionship eventually wore down whatever resistance Yuuri had, and after another long talk he apologized for his coldness and made it up to Viktor, cuddling up to his husband in their shared bed and not leaving his side for hours at a time.

It would be in vain for Viktor to pray that this would be the last time Yuuri’s glass heart would be endangered, but he still prayed all the same.

After a year of marriage, Viktor finally purchased a small fishing boat. His crew consisted of locals he had known their entire lives, and he worked in tandem with Yakov’s more established venture. His boat ventured further than any other, and brought home plentiful catches. It was enough to keep everyone satisfied, their wages steady and sure.

Their home was completed shortly after the purchase of the boat, and Viktor finally said goodbye to his perfectly tiny home, which had been the setting of the most important times of his life. It wasn't quite bittersweet, because Mama followed them into the new house and kept them company when one had to be away for longer than usual. Makkachin reveled in making the house thoroughly hers, but she was starting to have trouble moving around. All three of her humans were careful to spoil her to no end.

Once settled into their home by the shore, Viktor and Yuuri finally knew a modicum of privacy. Yuuri was nervous, Viktor was inexperienced, and both were quite curious, but in the end none of it mattered; all that was important was contained the warmth of bare skin and quickened breathing, the familiar and the new, the most sacred and intimate act that became one of their favorites to share.

Yuuri would stubbornly try to hide it, but Viktor would often catch him gazing out at the open sea with a longing expression on his face. Viktor missed his sea-family as well, but surely not as deeply as Yuuri did. He took it upon himself to make sure Yuuri was reminded of how beloved he was on land, and surrounded them with noise and life to dampen the merman’s homesickness.

In the end, their land years peacefully drew to a close. When Yuuri reminded him of their promise, Viktor began to put his affairs in order. His mother would be waiting for him in the seaside house, and his trusted first mate Christophe would captain his boat and ensure an income for her.

Yuuri had become a fixture in the village and was forced to make the rounds in order to say his goodbyes. They both lost track of the number of times they had to tell their neighbors and friends that their trip was only temporary.

Yuri Plisetsky took it the hardest, having grown extremely fond of Yuuri in the three years since their meeting. He begged to be brought with, even trying to convince his father to be allowed to journey on his own to Yuuri’s homeland.

It was not to be, at least not yet. They made their promise to him of their return, and then the full moon rose.

Yuuri could not contain his delight at regaining his tail, once he’d shed his land clothes for Viktor’s mother to collect. He waited in the rising tide for Viktor to follow him in, his scales glinting in the moonlight.

Mama, of course, had never seen Yuuri’s tail before; she kept sneaking glances at it as she bundled up the clothes left on the dry sand.

Viktor handed her his own shoes and shirt before he embraced her one last time. “I’ll miss you,” he told her, and she began to weep.

“I will be waiting for your return,” she promised.

She saw them off as Yuuri renewed the spell on Viktor and drew him back under the waves, and soon they were swimming out to sea once more.

Viktor had thought, some time into the marriage, that perhaps the time spent in Yuuri’s village would help ease his anxieties. He’d hoped it, even.

And for a time, that is what happened. They were welcomed back with great fanfare and celebration, and settled back into the routine that they had known three years earlier.

Yuuri spoke very little of the world on land to anyone outside of his family, which meant that Viktor was still quite sought after as a storyteller.

Most of the Mer were content with his recollections, but Minako knew them both too well.

“Something happened on the land, among your people,” she said one night as she dined with the family.

Yuuri went still next to him, and refused to answer, but Minako only looked to Viktor for an explanation.

“A few petty people with petty problems,” Viktor finally said. “But they were few, and so many more are missing us even now.”

Minako was not satisfied with this answer, and pulled him aside a few days later. “Tell me the truth, Viktor,” she commanded, and let the mask drop on how powerful she truly was.

Viktor didn’t hesitate this time. “I had many townswomen trying for my hand,” he admitted as steadily as he could. “They did not take kindly to my bringing home a spouse that was not one of them.”

Minako’s eyes narrowed. “Pettiness,” she said, repeating what he’d said the other night.

Viktor nodded.

She sighed. “Normally Yuuri doesn’t allow such things to affect him. But… such things can take root in the soul. Surely you had your quarrels, on land?”

And Viktor was ashamed. “We… we did, once or twice--”

“That’s not a surprise,” Minako cut him off. “That’s natural, no matter how long you are with someone.”

She eventually let him go on his way, and Viktor found her words staying with him well into the night.

No matter how long…

Days turned into weeks, into months, into a year. Yuuri’s family surprised them with an anniversary gift - a small abode of their own. Viktor had hoped the experience of making that place their own would be similar to that of their home on the land, but it was not to be.

Yuuri began to cling to Viktor at night, as if afraid he would decide to leave. In sharp contrast to that, Yuuri began to become distant during the day. Sometimes Viktor would go entire days without really seeing his husband during the waking hours, and all the company in the village couldn’t soothe his heartsickness. He began to seek out his husband, but that only served to push Yuuri further away.

Afterward, Viktor wouldn’t remember what had even caused the argument. Perhaps it was his own friendliness with their neighbors, or his prodding towards what he now knew to be Yuuri’s fragile heart. Perhaps it was something known only to Yuuri. Perhaps it was nothing at all, just the way the moon was shrinking in the world above them that could clearly be felt throughout all of the Mer world. But whatever the cause, the result was terrible.

Why don’t you return, then? Yuuri had demanded. Go back to your people, who desire you more than I could ever hope to compete with!

And Viktor had fled.

He’d hoped that he would be left alone at the edge of the cliff overlooking the village, but somehow the elderly Rika found him.

“You said this would be a trial,” he eventually said. “Did you mean a trial for just one of us? Because I had hoped… I had hoped this would be worthwhile.”

Rika patted his arm and sighed. “There must be storms for us to truly understand the sunlight, child.”

“But… what if he doesn’t truly love me?” Viktor wondered, scarcely daring to raise his voice above a whisper; a secret fear, dragged out into the open. It was almost painful to think of.

“If he didn’t truly love you, you would never have been able to come here,” Rika told him. “The question is, do you love your husband enough to fight for him? Even if it’s against your husband himself?”

She let him be after that and drifted back down to her home, and Viktor realized how empty his life would be without Yuuri.

He went back home, and was greeted with the stricken expression of a man who hadn’t believed such a thing could be possible.

“You came back,” Yuuri whispered.

“Of course I did.” And Viktor took his husband’s hands in his own and clasped them tightly. “You are where I’ve made my home, you fool. I couldn’t exist where you are not.”

Yuuri had embraced him with a cry, and Viktor knew all was not lost.

Their sea years were much of the same as the were on land, all things considered. Yuuri still had his insecurities, and Viktor still could not weather loneliness. But with their first fight came a determination to resist the tear that so nearly had destroyed them over something so small that neither could recall it afterwards.

Viktor learned how to draw the truth out of Yuuri when the merman began to close himself off; Yuuri learned how to recognize Viktor’s pleas for reassurance and answer them. They both learned to draw strength from each other, which became vital as Viktor’s homesickness reared its head much as Yuuri’s had during their land years. The Mer could not weep, and tears did not fall under the sea, but that only made the pain worse.

Yuuri’s presence by his side was a soothing balm on the rawness left by the absence of his family beyond the water’s surface, but Viktor found himself growing to fear the inevitable that drew closer with every passing full moon.

The others nearest them surely felt it as well, but while Yuuri’s family chose to disregard the coming year of separation entirely, others did not. A friend from warmer waters, named Phichit, was fascinated by the prophecy that they were adhering to, which only served to bring the anxiety back into Yuuri’s mind once more.

As their final sea year began to draw to a close, the elders convened once more and called the married couple before them.

Clearly, the intent was for Viktor and Yuuri to listen to them. But Viktor had concerns, and he did not wish to go blindly into this year of agony without some sort of consolation.

The elders first consulted the book of prophecies, which over the years had proven to astonishingly accurate; Viktor had figured out very early on that many of the Mer held the book in reverence ever since the prophecy of their union had come true. He was expecting a lot of what he’d heard almost six years ago, but then the speaker, Hainu, said something that chilled him to his core.

“This prophecy foretells of the reunion of two worlds,” the elder said sternly. “But at the core of it, at the heart of its success, is your faith. Your loyalty. Your bond.”

Yuuri’s hand found Viktor’s, and they both breathed in and waited.

“Should you fail in this trial,” Hainu went on, gathering intensity as he spoke, “should your devotion lapse, should you become unfaithful, you shall never see each other again.”

It was as if someone had reached into Viktor’s chest and plucked his very heart loose. He hadn’t even considered being unfaithful to Yuuri, but now…

Yuuri buried his face in Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor knew he could never bear to live without his husband.

“I won’t allow it,” he said aloud, and Yuuri relaxed against him.

Rika looked pleased, as did a few others of the council. Hainu, whom had remained as much of a stick in the mud over the years as he’d been when Viktor had married Yuuri, was impassive.

“Will it be instantaneous?” Yuuri asked, and they all looked at him. “The… reunion of worlds?”

Hainu sighed. “The prophecy is not clear on this,” he admitted. “But we must try.”

Viktor was willing to bet it would not be, but he privately agreed with the elder that it was worth the effort all the same. If Yuuri and his family could freely visit the world above, that would mean something greater for all of the peoples both above and below the surface. What it was, exactly, Viktor was willing to never truly know. All he knew was that with next full moon, Viktor would be returning to his home on the beach without his husband by his side.

Their parting was painful, and Viktor preferred not to recall it as Minako led him away from the village and guided him back towards the shelf, eventually drawing near the beach of his home. She left him to swim the rest of the way, and then surface in the low tide as the sun rose.

Mama was waiting for him, as she’d promised. Makkachin was old and weary, but still pleased to see him again. She seemed to be expecting Yuuri as well, but grew sad when she realized Viktor had come home alone.

Viktor allowed himself a few days to feel the pain of separation before he finally made his homecoming known in the village and resumed his duties on his boat.

The village had changed in his absence, as all places are wont to do; there had been deaths, there had been births, there had been marriages and comings-of-age, there had been joys and sorrows aplenty. Viktor was able to slowly learn of all of these things as he threw himself into the daily toil so that he could ease his own suffering.

Waking in his empty bed was certainly one of the worst things, to be sure. And much as Yuuri had during their land years, Viktor found himself staring out at the sea and longing.

But running back to Yuuri would have had the same consequences as betraying him, so Viktor did neither. The latter was never an attractive option, but the former tore at his heartstrings during his darkest days.

So many of the townswomen who had sullenly accepted his marriage all those years ago had gotten married themselves at this point, but there were still a few old maids who made snide remarks of how his husband had failed to remain. Viktor ignored them, and the overtures made by others who had perhaps been too young to remember his years as a bachelor. He chose instead to surround himself with friends he’d gained through his work on the docks and the boats, hoping that warmth would be enough to chase the heartache away just for a while.

So many nights would see him awakening from vivid dreams, always of the undersea village, always of Yuuri alone and suffering much as he was. The tug to return to the sea would grow stronger on those nights, but he would bury his face in Makkachin’s fleece as he had as a child.

He counted the full moons the way that the children counted the holidays, feeling something in his chest jump whenever another one crept past. Another… and another… and another…

His neighbors began to sense something great was upon them, perhaps due to Viktor’s strange behavior. Yuri Plisetsky correctly assumed it was because Yuuri would be returning from his homeland, but continued to be sour towards Viktor over not being allowed to visit himself.

The last full moon drew closer, and Viktor felt more alive as he watched the bright orb in the night sky grow fuller and fuller with every passing day.

And then, it was time.

Viktor found himself on their beach, waiting, as the moon crested the sky above in all its glory. And he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited, his heart leaping into his throat.

But the waves carried nothing but the sea to him, and as the sun rose he was forced to leave for his boat.

Have I not been faithful enough? His traitorous mind whispered as he made himself focus on preparing for the day’s work. Or… has Yuuri decided I’m…

He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought.

But of course, his Yuuri could always stand to surprise him.

Viktor was lost in thought as he and his crew made their first pass out at deep sea, dragging up the nets, when a cry rang out over the deck.

Man overboard!

Viktor snapped out of his dark mood and ran to starboard, and what he saw made the world instantly become brighter.

Yuuri grinned up from the waves before disappearing back into the sea, and Viktor saw the flash of his fins in the direction of the shore.

When he finally docked for the night, his husband waited for him… but the villagers whispered as they caught sight of the bright gold scales adorning his splendid tail.

Viktor didn’t care, he threw himself off the dock, laughing as Yuuri caught him and held him tightly.

“I’m so sorry I was late,” Yuuri whispered in Viktor’s ear.

“No, never,” Viktor answered. “But… I thought you would never come back to me.”

“You fool,” Yuuri replied. “You are where I’ve made my home, too.”

Nowadays, the Mer have a reputation.

Unending devotion, the land dwellers say. The most ideal of spouses.

Really, as the very first of them would happily tell anyone who asked, it was not any single trait exclusive to one people or the other. It was about the work, the pain and heartache, the effort and emotion, the time you were willing to put into such a marriage.

For as one would wish, such a marriage would last a long time, and perhaps one could even say that the lovers lived happily ever after. But real happiness can only be known through sorrow, and only then can one know how deeply true love may run.