Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Penny!” Simon whined. “I’m bored.”

Penelope grumbled and kept focus on her spell studies. She was learning more advanced stuff now. “Shut up, Simon, you’re always bored.”

Simon shifted his head on her lap, chin digging into the top of her bright purple tail. “Yeah, but I’m really bored now.”

“You could practice magic with me.”

“Don’t mock me, Pen.” He frowned, scratching at the spattering of scales on his wrist. “You know I’m shit at magic.”

“You’re not shit, just... erratic.”

Simon huffed. “That’s a much kinder word than the ones Father uses during our lessons. He prefers ‘reckless’ and ‘explosive.’”

Penelope finally put down her writing tablet. Simon was less frowning and more pouting now, bottom lip jutting out slightly. She put down her book, choosing to run her fingers over his curls as they swayed in the water instead.

“Did he yell at you again, Si?”

The merboy grunted, hiding his face in her tail even more. His own plain blue fin twitched angrily. He rarely used his words, preferring body motions and disjointed noises. Luckily, Penny had known him long enough to understand what they meant. Simon respected his father the way a child should, but over time he’d come to not like him very much. Davy never gave him any room to be himself, to explore outside of his magic studies. It was cruel to do to someone as naturally curious as Simon.

“Hey,” she said, “how about we go look at that human ship you saw yesterday? Together?”

Simon’s head jolted up. A grin spread across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah if it’ll make you stop moping.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes yes certainly! Let’s go!”

They swam off together into the dark recesses of the ocean.

Every merfolk talked about how the sea was was always a gorgeous place. And it was. Filled with swirling greens and blues and violets. With brightly coloured creatures gracing the gravelly floor, it always looked like a veritable rainbow.

But Simon wasn’t interested in colourful wildlife or pretty ocean water. Those things had had never grabbed his attention. He didn’t really like the endless sea period. Where he was just supposed to wander (which bored him), practice magic (which he was awful at), or, according to his father, fight humans (which he despised most of all.) No, Simon found joy and fun in learning about what the mysterious land dwellers were like. But since he could never get to surface, what with the tail and Davy breathing down his neck, he had the next best thing; what they left behind in his own home.

“C’mon Penny c’mon! Hurry up!” Simon zipped through the water, tail almost a blur. Penny rolled her eyes as she followed him.

“My goodness Simon,” she said. “Slow down! The ship will still be there no matter how fast we get there.”

Simon swam so his head hung upside down in front of hers. His big grin was like a sunbeam shining right into her face. “Then why not go faster?!”

“Because some of us aren’t secretly pilot whales.”

He stuck her tongue out (he always did when Penny mocked him) then flipped around and swam away quickly again. Penny followed behind. It didn’t matter how fast he went then, though. The ship was right there.

It was huge, looming over both of them. The mast was still attached and stuck out high above them. A large rock stuck right through the body. Simon had to assume it’d been down here awhile. It was all rotting, the surface covered in barnacles and sea plants. It was a total wreck. Simon loved it.

“Whoa,” he whispered with awe. “I still can’t believe humans across our waters in these big things.”

Penelope shook her head slowly. “Me neither.”

“It’s so massive! How does it not sink?!”

“I don’t know. I’ve never learned about human stuff.”

“Is it magic?”

Penny rolled her eyes. “No, Simon, of course not. Humans can’t do magic.”

Simon stuck his tongue out again and tugged on her wrist. “C’mon, let’s go!”

They swam into the massive ship. Simon brushed his webbed hand against it’s surface, feeling the soft wood and slippery algae under his fingertips. Nothing in his world was made of this material. Everything was shaped rough coral or rock. Before he found these ships, Simon had never felt an object made of something so smooth. He giggled like a little kid.

“This is incredible,” he said, spinning in the water with his arms out.

“It’s certainly something,” Penelope replied, wiping the algae off her finger.

“Aren’t you just a little awestruck, Pen? Don’t you wonder how it came to be?”

“I don’t share your weird human fascination, Si. To me, it’s just...stuff.”

Simon huffed, then dived down through a hole in the deck. There was little light, only tiny beams shining through tiny holes. Even with his highly perceptive merfolk vision, he couldn’t see much. But he did see the smallest flash of something shiny.

“Pen! I think I found something!”

He swam towards it. It was poking out of a tattered cloth. He pushed it away, and gasped. Inside were strange silver objects. They were hard and cold to the touch, bent into odd curved shapes.

“What is it?”

Simon jolted at Penelope’s sudden appearance behind him. “Jeez Penny, give me some warning.” He went back to the trinkets, picking one up that had three spikes. “I don’t know. Kinda reminds me of Father’s trident, but smaller”

Penelope snatched it out of his hand. He frowned as she examined the object. “Hm, strange. Maybe they use it to brush their hair.”

She stuck it in Simon’s bronze curls and tried to pull through them. But it got caught on his tangles. He giggled and slapped her hand away. The tool stuck out of his knotted hair.

“Maybe. Who knows.” He tried to pull out the human object. But it took a few tugs before it released. He picked up the other human trinkets, smiling softly.

“These will work great in my collection.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “You and your bloody collection.”

“Shut up it’s important to me,” Simon said with a pout.

She sighed, placing a hand on his arm. “Yeah, I know.”

Without another word, Simon dashed off. Penny followed behind. She knew where he was off to of course. To the only place he truly loved.

Simon’s cave was innocuous on the outside. Just an underground little hovel. Except that it was filled to the brim with outlawed items from the surface.

Outlawed was a strong word, but it was the one Simon’s father had used. He thought that because he was a powerful magic user with a big trident that meant he could outlaw things for his son. That Simon had to hate humans like him. But Simon preferred to form his own ideas. And from all he’d found, he had a hard time believing such supposedly evil creatures could make such beautiful things.

He and Penny swam in through the small secluded entrance. Simon’s eyes lit up as soon as he entered. Bioluminescent algae covered huge parts of the circular interior, with one singular hole at the top to let a bit of natural light in from above. There were shelves upon shelves of treasures that Simon had collected over the past few years, towering above the two merfolk. A wave of pure calm and happiness washed over Simon as he looked up. Here, he felt safe and happy.

“Where should I put these?” Simon said with a grin. “Next to the these things?” He swam upwards and played with small multi coloured charms on the ends of strings. “Or this thing?” He picked up a strange curly silver object just above.

Penelope couldn’t help but smile. Simon always looked so happy here. Among his strange collection of human oddities. She shrugged, usually a gesture only he used.

“Up to you, Simon. You know this shit better than I do.”

Simon swam slow circles around the cave, observing his trove. He stopped near the top and grinned broadly.

“Right here!” He shouted down. “It’s perfect.”

He jammed the three pronged one into his “bendy three stick thing” as he called it. He’d found it with three white wax rods stuck in it, but these silver objects fit just the same. He stuck three different ones in. The tiny trident, the dull blade, and the curvy dip one. Penelope sat on a rock at the bottom

“Are they supposed to go there?” She asked, face screwed up in confusion.

Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. But they fit anyway. Good enough for me.”

Penelope sighed, scooping up some of the gold discs Simon had found last month. She lounged back and played with it between her fingers. It glinted as she spun it around. Though Simon was having fun, which was great, this wasn’t what interested her. She didn’t get her friend’s human fascination. She assumed it stemmed from equal parts boredom and rebellion against his father.

“Hey, I think I hear something,” Simon yelled. He was looking up out of the hole.

“Is it a shark?” she replied.

“No. It sounds like a party or something. Above the water.”

Penelope felt the panic run through her. She whipped her head up to look at Simon. He was gazing through the hole with wide eyes and hopeful smile.

“Simon,” she said harshly. “Don’t do what I think you’re going to do. If Davy finds out...”

He gave her a mischeavous grin. Then was off like a shot through the still open door.

“Simon!”

Penelope followed after him. But he was so much faster. He was a total blue blur as he shot towards the surface.

Simon’s head burst through the water. He sucked in a deep breath of pure air. His usually floating hair was soaked flat on top of his head. It took a second for his eyes to re-adjust to the water free environment. He gasped at the sight before him.

It was like the ship below, but even better. No rot or barnacles. Just pure finished wood that cut through the waves. The hull was carved with intricate designs that had a golden finish. Huge, loud bursts of light shot off the edge and into the night sky. They sparkled like starts. Simon watched with awe. How was it doing that? Was this what humans had instead of magic? He’d never seen anything like it. Voices cheered and shouted from the ship. Against his better judgement, he swam closer and closer.

He was right up against the hull, but still couldn’t see anything. He thought about magically lifting himself like his father did, but that would probably send Simon flying knowing his magic. So, with great effort, he scaled up the side instead. He sat on a little lip on the side of the boat and peeked through the opening. Then his heart promptly stopped.

The human leaned on the opposite edge of the ship, legs crossed over one another. While everyone else shouted around him, he stayed still, focused on the contraption in his hand. It sat on his arm and he rested his chin on it. He pushed and pulled a long stick over the it’s strings. Every motion elicited an eerie tune, changing with the way he moved his long fingers across the neck.

Simon dragged his gaze over him, lingering on his every feature. He was tall and thin but defined like a statue. The fire light on the ship made his reddish-gold skin practically glow. His face was made of sharp lines, from his cheekbones to his jaw, which were all screwed up in concentration over the strange machine in his arms. Lank raven hair hung in front of his grey eyes. They weren’t just grey though. They were dark blue and dark green mixed together, like deep ocean water.

He was the most beautiful person Simon had ever seen.

Chapter Text

Baz hated parties, he always had. So how Dev and Niall convinced him to have this one was beyond him. Maybe it was because it was on a boat. Didn’t matter, he regretted it. He watched as everyone laughed and drank like the sailors they were, while he was focused on his violin, apparently his only true friend at the moment.

“Ugh Baz,” Dev groaned as he leaned on the rail next to him. “Can’t you play something less depressing?”

“No,” he replied curtly.

“This is your birthday party. You’re supposed to having fun!”

“This is not my idea of fun.”

“It’s everyone else’s.”

“Everyone else is an idiot.”

Dev rolled his eyes over dramatically. Of course that was when Niall decided to flop down on his other side, now mostly empty beer stein in hand.

“Is he still being a stiff, Dev?” He called over, words more than slightly slurred.

Baz glared over his violin at him. “I’m right here, arsehole.”

Niall smiled drunkenly. “So you are, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

“Thank you for the wonderfully creative nickname.”

“Well it’s accurate,” Dev said with a shrug. “You’ve been in an even worse mood since you came back from that trip to meet the Princess of Glauerhaven. Was she really that awful?”

“Or,” Niall dragged out the two letter word with all the diction and enunciation of a drunk man. “Did she have the audacity to even try to speak to the great Prince Basilton and you insulted her?”

Baz took a long pause to glare menacingly at his friend and cousin. They looked back with smug smiles. He finally put his violin down, hunching his shoulders in.

“I hate you both,” he growled as he stomped off to another end of the ship far away from them.

Of course Dev and Niall didn’t really understand. Baz hadn’t told them the real reason for his sour demeanor. There hadn’t been anything particularly wrong with the Princess of Glauerhaven, really. Except the whole “princess” part. Baz had already told his father about who he was and the kind of person he wanted to be with. But Malcolm Grimm told him those feelings were irrelevant to his marriage.

It wasn’t that Baz’s “preferences” were a forbidden or hated thing in their kingdom of Watford. It was that Malcolm wanted his eldest son to “continue the Pitch royal line.” Like his family name was the only important thing about him. His father wasn’t even technically a Pitch, just the widower of the late queen. Maybe he thought he was honouring Natasha’s memory by making sure her bloodline continued through their only son. Even at the sacrifice of said son’s happiness.

Baz leaned over the edge of the boat and breathed in the salty sea air. He felt better out here. Away from his father and all the expectations he put on Baz. He leaned over the edge, looking at the dark choppy waves below.

“Don’t lean too far out, your highness!” Gareth shouted where he was adjusting a rope up the mast. “You could fall in. And if you don’t drown, the merfolk will get ya!”

Baz raised an eyebrow. “You really believe those old sailor tales?”

“Well I’m a sailor aren’t I?”

“Touché.” He leaned a little farther, gazing over the thundering waves. “You really think there are people with fishtails and magic living down there?”

Gareth hopped down and stood next to him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his pelvis pushed forward (for some reason he really liked that position). “To be honest? Yeah. My good friend Rhys saw a merman once. He was big and gruff, with a thick green tail and a massive gold pitchfork. And when he spotted Rhys, my smart friend wheeled away like his life depended it.”

“Are you sure your friend wasn’t drunk at the time?”

He shrugged up to his ears. “I don’t think so.”

Baz made a “pfft” noise, blowing hair out of his eyes. “I’ll be sure to do the same as him if I ever see a ‘merfolk’”

Gareth looked at him deadpan. Which was an expression Baz could easily return. (It was practically his default.) He wasn’t one for stupid childhood fairy tales, and right now was no exception.

“Hey Baz get over here!” Niall shouted. “Come see your birthday present!”

Baz rolled his eyes but still went. He was somewhat curious, which he’d probably regret later.

The crew and the partygoers, Dev and Niall included, stood around a large object draped in a purple cloth. An obnoxious red bow held the fabric in place. The looming thing had been there the whole party and it filled Baz with anticipatory dread.

Baz crossed his arms. “Do I even want to know?”

“Certainly!” Dev said. “You’re going to love it.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Niall grabbed the bow. “We present to you, you!” He yanked it hard.

The curtain fell down, and Baz’s heart seized. It was horrific. In front of him was a giant white marble statue of a young man, standing triumphant with one leg up a giant seal with a large “B”. He was dressed a puffy sleeved shirt and tight pants and a long cape, long sword in hand. The other hand was pressed against his in a fist. It was bad enough that the statue merely existed. But it was worse that Baz’s face was carved on it.

“My god,” he muttered.

“Happy birthday!” Niall said with a shit eating grin.

Baz rubbed his eyes up and down in exasperation. “You are quite literally the worst.”

“Oh don’t be such a downer, Basil. It’s amazing.”

“I can’t believe you actually spent money to have that made.”

“Lighten up!” A crew member hollered. Baz fixed him with a steely grey glare, which the man immediately shied away from. “I-If you want, your highness.”

Baz scoffed, about to throw another barbed word at his so called friends. But the loud thunder interrupted him. Everyone looked up with shock and horror.

“Oh no,” the first mate whispered.

Another roar ripped through the air, followed by a crack of lightning hitting the water less than a mile away. It was like the sky opened up above the ship in an instant, suddenly drenching them in torrential rain.

“Everyone to their stations!” The captain shouted.

The crew rushed into high gear. They pulled ropes and adjusted rutters. Baz helped as well. He may be the prince but he wasn’t useless. The pounding water blurred his vision, and the rocking sea sent him stumbling him back and forth. Standing his ground was becoming difficult. Lightning once again streaked across the grey clouds. It pierced the sail and set it aflame, spreading quickly through the fabric and to the mast. Fiery wood came crashing down on their heads.

“Abandon ship!” The captain’s voice was barely audible over the storm, but everyone knew what to do.

They released dinghies that crashed into the water. People jumped overboard and scrambled to them. Baz was about to dive off himself, until he heard a voice.

“Help!” Gareth shouted. “I’m stuck!”

Baz whipped around. The sailor’s leg was pinned under a flaming beam. Baz didn’t think twice. He rushed to his aid.

“Baz what are you doing?!” Niall shouted from a distance.

He lifted the wooden beam up with a heave and threw it to the side. With an arm around Gareth’s neck, he hoisted him to his feet. The man was limping slightly but could still move.

“Go!” Baz yelled.

Gareth nodded, then limp-ran to dive overboard. From the corner of his vision, Baz saw the fire crawling towards a chest. The chest filled with fireworks.

“Shit,” he whispered.

He ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Just as he jumped, the world exploded around him in a deafening boom and blinding light, hurtling him forward far too fast. Baz hit the ocean with a painful thwack.

Water filled Baz’s ears. Everything became muffled. His vision was hazy at best. The only slightly distinct thing he could see was a flash of shiny blue race above him. And he swore he felt two arms snake around his torso.

But then everything went black.

Simon didn’t know how long he’d laying on the sand, the grains scratching against his skin and scales, just staring down at him. This human, apparently called a prince, couldn’t be any older than Simon himself. Yet he had risked his own life saving another’s. The other humans had called him Baz. It was such a strange, beautiful name. It fit him perfectly.

Baz was alive. Unconscious and still shivering slightly, but alive. It was an absolute miracle, considering Simon had dragged him through the freezing water for hours. Maybe Simon’s strange, uncontrollable magic had protected Baz. (For once it was useful.) He’d pulled the human to the nearest shore. Along the way he’d picked up Baz’s peculiar device, which laid at his side on the beach. Simon couldn’t have let such an amazing thing be washed away.

The sun was rising now, fiery reds and oranges illuminating Baz’s every gorgeous feature. His soaked black was splayed out, a stark contrast to the blindingly white sand. Simon lightly ran a finger down his jaw then cupped his soft cheek. His skin was cold but thankfully warming up.

“Simon!” Penny hissed from in the water, having finally found him after searching all this time. “Simon, we should to go! What if someone spots you?”

“Just, a little longer alright?” He said to her, before turning back to Baz. He pushed some raven hair away from Baz’s face. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Father says you’re all horrible monsters, but how could he think someone like you is a monster? I-I mean, you make beautiful music, and you nearly died saving that man’s life. I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re just...a boy.”

“Si, we have to go!”

He barely heard Penelope though. All he paid attention to was Baz’s soft breathing, escaping from his slightly open mouth, and his steady pulse. With every beat, Simon was reassured that Baz had survived. Simon cupped Baz’s jaw and lowered his mouth closer to his ear.

“You’re incredible, Baz,” he said quietly. “I hope you know that.”

Simon pulled back and his breath hitched. Baz’s eyes were slightly open, a half moon of a grey iris under heavy lids.

“Wha...who...?” The human rasped out.

Shit.

“Baz?! Baz are you there?” The other human’s voice wasn’t that far away.

Simon scrambled off the sand and dove into the water. Penny followed close behind.

Baz sat up with a groan. He hurt all over. Probably because he’d been catapulted off that bloody ship. He looked around at his surroundings. A beach, like the one near his family castle. Wait, no, it was his beach, with it’s bright white sand and jagged cliffs. His eyes widened. On his left was his violin, also wet but intact. How did it get here? How did he get here?

Everything was blurry after the explosion, but there were pieces. Faint shades of blue and bronze, the feeling of arms gripping his waist. And one thing was very clear in his mind. A man’s voice right next to his ear.

You’re incredible, Baz. I hope you know that.

“Baz! Guys he’s over here!” Dev jumped down the rocks and ran towards Baz. “Thank god you’re alive!”

Baz held his head. “Someone saved me. A-A man. He said things...his voice...”

Dev kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think you must’ve bashed your head against a rock, cuz. C’mon let’s get you home.”

He helped Baz get back on his shaky feet, taking his violin in the other hand. The rest of the crew grinned at and cheered for him from the rocks.

Baz looked back one last time though. And he swore, just for a second, he saw a flash of bronze and blue out of the corner of his eye.

Chapter Text

Simon wasn’t a focused person on a good day, but right now it was a thousand times worse. He shifted back and forth on the rock he was lounging upon, even more restless than usual. Slowly, he lifted his head towards the sunlight filtering in the sea. Part of him wanted to swim up towards it. Leave the water, go swim next to the shore, look for a certain beautiful, brave human again...

“Simon!” His father barked. “Are you listening?”

The boy’s head snapped back down. David loomed over him, one hand on his hip and the other clutching his trident. He glared menacingly. It was his default expression.

“What?” Simon replied dumbly.

“Are. You. Listening? Did you hear anything I had to say about battle spells?”

“Uh, no. Sorry, sir.”

David groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Simon, what’s the point of trying to teach you if you won’t listen? Your spell work will never improve if you don’t even try!”

Simon looked down, picking at his wrist scales nervously. “Sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t bloody well good enough!” He swam closer to better glare at his son. “You may be powerful, son, but your magic only works half the time. What if you get caught by a human, hm? And you’ll need it to work in order to escape.”

Simon frowned. The dormant rage that always sat in his gut stirred and bubbled. His voice was quiet but tinted with anger. “Why do you think humans are all out to get us, Father? What if they’re really...not that bad?”

David inhaled sharply. He stood straight up, a looming giant over his son. “What did you just say?”

Simon mustered up some more courage, lifting his face slightly. “What if they’re not that bad? I-I mean- Humans have never hurt us in my lifetime. They’ve never even bothered us. You’ve just told me they’re evil and I-”

“And you should listen to what I say!” David growled and gripped his trident. “You are simply too young and naive. They are all terrible, evil creatures Simon!”

“No they’re not!” Simon yelled at the top of his lungs. For the first time, he truly spoke back to his father. He and David were locked in a silent standoff for what felt like eternity. But then David slowly backed away, still glaring but without the fury.

“You’re obviously in a mood, son. You need to go clear your head. I have business to attend to. Go home, study some spells, and when I return, I hope you’ll have reconsidered these silly notions.”

Simon growled once, then swam away at full speed with tears in his eyes. He certainly wasn’t going home.

Simon had always been curious, going to far from his home, playing with things he shouldn’t. But his human fascination didn’t start until he was 11.

After exploring as far as he could go in the ocean and found things were mostly the same everywhere, Simon had begun to wonder about land. Wonder what these supposedly evil humans created and left behind. So he explore his first shipwreck. The first thing he found in the wreckage was a simple wooden plank. It was smooth and carved with intricate patterns. Simon had spent hours tracing his fingers over the indented swirls. He loved it immediately and desperately. But he couldn’t bring it home, obviously, but he didn’t want to just leave it behind. So after hours of searching, he’d discovered the hidden cavern with rows of naturally made shelves and put the plank there. Then it all sort of escalated from there.

Now even years later, Simon still spent the majority of his free time exploring old human shipwrecks. It was the bright spot in his otherwise dark and dreary days. And today he went to a very specific one.

While pulling Baz from under the water all those days ago, Simon had watched his ship burn and sink. It was terrifyingly beautiful sight. The way it blazed was like a floating sun before disappearing beneath the waves. Simon swam away then, too focused on saving Baz. But now he went towards it.

The burnt wood sat in a pile on the ocean floor. It was still looked quite charred even weeks later. Simon rummaged through the rubble. He pushed the planks aside, looking for something other than blackened wood. He found a piece of mostly intact bean, then a strange piece of twisty metal that pricked Simon’s finger. But as he shoved away a large piece, his breath hitched. It was impossible to breathe in front of what he saw.

A smile crept across his lips.

“Simon,” Penelope whined. “What is so important I had to stop my spell practice for it?”

“Just wait. Oh and don’t open your eyes.”

Simon dragged his friend by the wrist. Her eyes were squeezed shut as his request. As they passed through the cave entrance, Penny’s shoulder clipped a rock.

“Ow! Simon!”

“Sorry, Pen, sorry! Okay, almost there...now look!”

Penelope blinked her eyes open. As they focused, they went wider and wider. “Son of a shark,” she whispered. “Is that...is that your prince?”

“Yeah!”

Simon swam around the grand marble statue. It looked absolutely ridiculous to Penelope. It was stupidly grand, one hand on his chest and the other on his sword, foot placed triumphantly on the shield with his initial. This didn’t look like the boy Simon gazed at on the beach. The Baz she saw was a very gangly, very unconscious youth no older than Simon himself. Not this great powerful human warrior.

“Where in Poseidon's name did you find this?” Penny asked as she slowly swam around the statue, taking in the whole thing. She had to admit that it was incredible to look at.

“In Baz’s shipwreck,” Simon replied, tracing a finger over the statue’s perfectly carved cheekbone. “Baz’s friend gave it to him for his birthday. It took a lot of tries, but I got it here. Isn’t it marvelous?”

Penelope could certainly tell Simon had brought it here. His arms were bruised, probably from coaxing the statue to move with too much magic and accidentally smashing it into himself. It was a daring feat for him, but it seemed to be worth it. Simon folded his black and blue arms over the sculpture’s shoulder, chin resting on the his wrists. He gazed at it with a dreamy look in his eyes. Neptune’s beard, Penny thought, he’s really got it bad.

“It’s...something alright.” She poked the marble monogrammed shield. “Do humans really do this? Create big images of themselves?”

Simon shrugged. “I guess. Baz didn’t like it very much though. He was very cross with his friends for giving it to him.”

“Honestly, I think I can understand. This thing is horrendous.”

“I think it’s wonderful. Humans make such strange, amazing things.” He sighed heavily. “I wish I could see more of it. Not just what’s left behind after a shipwreck.”

Penelope sighed as well. This wasn’t the first time Simon had lamented about this. He talked about wanting to go to see land often, but he was never serious. At least, Penny hoped he wasn’t, considering his father and her own desire to keep him safe.

“Well, as long as they keep leaving behind pretty things, I think you’ll be fine.”

Simon’s mouth involuntarily quirked up. “Yeah, that’s true.”

He kept staring at Baz’s carved face. Though this effigy wasn’t really an accurate portrayal of the Baz he’d seen, the face was perfect. Whoever made this had captured that well at least. They got his graceful sharp cheekbones, his strangely adorable droopy eyes, his long thin nose. How Simon wished he could see this face in person again.

“I’ve got to get back to my spell practice,” Penelope said. “See you later, alright?”

“Alright,” Simon said, barely noticing as she left.

Simon sighed as he fell back onto the cave floor next to the statue. He lay with his arms outstretched above his head. The little natural sunlight sprinkled in from above. Simon reached up, almost trying to grab the beams for himself. He’d only ever been to the surface a few times, and only once during the day. He wondered what it would be like to be bathed in the sun. To feel the heat of it on his skin, stretched out on the shore. When he closed his eyes he could almost be there. The scratchy sand against his back, the grains digging between his toes, light dancing behind his eyelids, a long fingered hand holding his-

“So this is where you go in your free time, hm? I wondered where you were dragging Penelope to.”

Simon bolted up. His blood ran freezing cold. David stood right there in the entrance way, arms crossed over his broad chest, trident clutched in hand. Simon tried to calm down his rapid pulse.

“Father,” he stuttered. “I-”

“Did I not forebay human items?” Davy boomed. “How are you supposed to fight against them if you keep their cursed objects!?”

“Why would we fight them though?!” Simon shot back, swimming up to his full height. “They’re...they’re not all evil. Some of them are just fine. Why do we have to hate all of them?!”

“Because they’re the enemy! Why do you think I’ve taught you so much?! It’s so we can fight the human filth when we strike against them. Don’t you understand?! All of this needs to go!”

Simon knew his father was obsessed with fighting humans, but he’d never seen him so crazed. His blue eyes were wild with fury. It was more than just determination. It was quite frankly terrifying. But he wasn’t going to let his father take his happiness away.

“No,” Simon whispered.

“What was that?”

“No!” Simon’s voice boomed, his magic shaking everything around them. David stared at his son in shock. Simon had never spoken so defiantly to his father before. Now he had twice in one day. He glared at Davy with unimaginable fire in his eyes. “No, I won’t get rid of any of this. And you can’t make me!”

They stood in silence for a long moment. David’s face slowly shifted into a scowl. His trident hummed and glowed with menacing orange light. Simon couldn’t help but shrink back.

“Well,” he growled. “If you won’t do it yourself, then I will have to.”

Simon inhaled sharply. “Father, please, don’t.”

David hefted his weapon into both hands. “Too late.”

A large bolt of light streaked through the air, hitting one of the shelves of artifacts. They exploded into shards and splinters. Another shredded a fancy cloth into scraps. Simon yelled pleas to his father, but they fell on deaf ears. One more blast, then another, and another, the terrifying noise of destruction sounded out as David obliterated every one of Simon’s treasured artifacts.

Once every shelves was cleared, only one thing remained. Simon saw his father’s eyes focus on the statue. He swam up to him, tugging at his trident arm.

“No, Father, don’t!”

David trained his trident directly on the sculpture. The high pitched whine of power increased as the magic built.

“No!”

It fired. The statue rapidly splintered with cracks made of orange light, then explosively shattered into hundreds of thick pieces. Simon shielded his face from the blast, eyes already welling with tears.

The relative silence was loud after all the destruction. All that could be heard were the tinkling of ceramic crumbs and metal shards. David breathed out slowly.

“There,” he said calmly. “Not a problem anymore.”

Simon fell to the ground, head pillowed on his arms as sobs shook his body. David made a derogatory noise at his son.

“Oh pull yourself together, Simon. They were just things. We all need to make sacrifices in a war.” Simon didn’t respond, not even moving from his spot. His father merely sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, be like that. I have to head south. I’ll be back in a few days, and I expect you to have gotten over this ridiculousness by the time I return.”

David turned around and left his son. Simon just stayed on the ground, surrounded by his broken treasures and the shards of his prince.

Chapter Text

“Simon? You in here?”

Penny stuck her head through the door, and her heart sank. It was worse than she thought. When she saw David come home alone fuming, she expected something bad. But this was just beyond terrible. Everything Simon had collected over the years, all the things he loved, were destroyed. The merman himself lay at the centre of the wreckage like the eye of the hurricane, face in his arms. Simon’s soft crying was the only sound in the room.

“Oh, Simon,” she sighed as she sat next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

He whimpered, burying his face further into the ground. Penny placed a hand on his upper back and rubbed soothing circles

“Why would he do this?” Simon whispered. “ I-I wasn’t hurting anyone. It was just stuff. Does he really hate humans that much?”

“I guess so.” She picked up a piece of debris next to her, half the prince statue’s face. She traced a finger over the sharp cheekbones, thin lips, and piercing eyes. “Destroyed your new one too, huh?”

His head snapped up and he snatched it from her. Penny backed away defensively. Simon looked at it mournfully, tracing a finger over the features. It was the last reminder he had of Baz. And his father had destroyed it. Out of spite.

“I hate him, Pen,” he muttered. “I really hate him.”

The ground shook slightly under Simon, his magic responding to his anger like usual. Penny was startled. This was the first time Simon had actually said he disliked David. Not an indistinct grunt or groan, but an actual statement against him.

“Yeah, I get it, Si. He did a really horrible thing. You can stay at my place for time being.”

Simon didn’t respond. He looked at the bedrock intensely. The thoughts were tumbling around his head like a hurricane. Sorting and choosing and rationalizing, all in what really was a few seconds. They filtered down to one conclusion. One stupid, reckless, amazing conclusion.

“I want to go to the surface.”

Penelope sighed. “Simon, that’s very risky. I know you want to replace this stuff, but what if a human spots us or-”

“No no no.” He shook his head rapidly. “I want to go there...to stay...”

She kept staring at him confused. He saw the revelation slowly hit her, eyes widening and mouth falling open.

“Oh my stars!” she yelled, jolting up off the rock and floating over Simon. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”

“ Yes. Transformation spells are a thing, it’s possible”

Penelope rubbed her forehead, trying to smooth out her increasing number of worry lines. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am! Penny, I want to leave, so badly. And I...I want to see, him again.”

“Really, Si?!” She put her hands on her hips. “You want to become human and possibly leave your home forever for some pretty boy prince?!

Simon swam up to her level, throwing his arms skywards. “It’s not just that! I’ve never liked it down here, you know that. I’m a useless merman who can barely throw a spell. A-And Father is the worst. I can’t bear living for his stupid imaginary war anymore! I just-I just need to go there, to get away, and...to get to know Baz better.” His head and arms fell down. “I can’t get him out of my head, Pen. I want- I need to know if there’s a chance.”

Penny swam back and forth, running hands through her hair. “Simon this is totally insane! You’ll be giving up your tail, your magic, your life, just to go be with some human prince you’ve seen once . I mean, how can you not see the problems here?! I know your father’s an arse but that doesn’t mean running away forever! Why can’t you just stay here? Where you’ll be safe and...” Penny finally turned to look at Simon. Her heart sank at his wide eyes, at the way his slightly open mouth was curved in a desperate frown. “And...totally miserable.” She hung her head and groaned. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Simon gasped, then promptly tackle hugged her, hurling them through the water. “Thank you Penny! Thank you thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet, Si. I need to find and do a spell first.”

“You will, I know it. You’re the bestest spell caster ever!”

Penelope rolled her eyes with a smile, shoving him her. “Yeah yeah, no need to butter me up, I’m already helping you.”

Simon tugged her hand. “C’mon c’mon let’s go!”

Penny sighed. She always ended up doing the craziest things with Simon. But this would definitely top the list.

Penelope’s family spell collection was insane. There were hundreds of tablets with hundreds of different spells. That’s where all her family members were now, wandering around the ocean, finding and creating new incantations like the majority of merfolk so. Which gave the younger merfolk free reign of the spell room.

Simon and Penny sat with many pieces of stones surrounding them. Simon tried not to let his eyes glaze over but it was getting very difficult. He scanned over the words looking for a clue, any clue. But soon, his prayers were answered. He stopped at one spell. It was just what he wanted, created for a lovestruck mermaid to be with a human. Perfect.

“Pen! I found it!”

He raced over to her, shoving the tablet in her face. “Jeez Simon, let me actually read it.”

She looked the writing over, chewing on her lip nervously. Simon watched her intently as his heart beat so fast he feared it would burst. “So? Will it work?”

Penelope sighed and nodded slowly. “Yes. But...”

Simon’s face fell. “But what?”

“But it only lasts three days. For it to become permanent, he has to fall in love with you and prove it by kissing you before sunset on the third day. That’s a lot to do in so little time. I’d be surprised if this spell ever worked.” Simon made a sound far too close to a whine. She sighed. Why must he be so pathetic and adorable at the same time?

“I mean,” she said, scratching her chin. “I could push it to five days with some work. Give you more time. But you’d still need to get him to fall for you, and kiss you. That I can’t change. And...extending the days means you’ll have to give a sacrifice.”

“What, like for a power source?”

“Yes. It’s the only way to make it last longer. It needs to be an offering or show of faith. To do something this big you need to be willing to give up something big of your own.”

Simon had vague memories of his Father’s lessons. (He only ever half paid attention). Yeah, that seemed right. Spells that were strong, reality altering magic sometimes needed an extra push. And without aid from an outside power source, like David’s trident, you would have to relinquish a part of yourself. It was a quid pro quo.

“So what do I need to do?” Simon asked, determination in his blue eyes. “Cut off some hair? A finger? Let some blood? Give my soul? I hope it’s not that. I like my soul.”

Penelope rolled her eyes and shook her head, swishing her purple curls. “No, it’s not ever something so physical, Simon. Did you actually listen during your lessons?” Simon frowned, and Penny immediately felt terrible. He didn’t need to be put down any more today, or any more period. Which only reinforced why she had to do this. So she petted his hair, and felt relieved when she saw him smile.

“Well,” she said, “my Mum said a good sacrifice is usually a sense or ability. Like sight or hearing, or a skill you’re proficient at, like spellwork. The willingness to give up stuff that big is strong enough to enhance a spell. I’m not sure what you could do. I think-”

“What about my voice?”

Penny’s eyes went wide. She stared at Simon, looking at him blankly for a long time, before realising he wasn’t kidding. “What?!”

“What if I give up my voice? As the sacrifice?”

“Simon, that’s- I don’t know...”

He shrugged and looked down sheepishly. “I mean, I’m not good with words anyway. And of course I want to see and hear him. But he doesn’t need to hear me speak. I can use my other ways to talk, I guess. And-And it’s not like I’m good enough at spellwork for the sacrifice of it to be enough.”

“Si-”

“C’mon Pen, nothing else will work. We both know that.”

She rubbed her lips together, racking her brain for an alternative. But he was right. Taking anything else would be too much of a hinderance or not powerful enough. Penny sighed, then nodded. “Alright. Help me set up the ingredients.”

Penny tossed the entire glass bottle into David’s cauldron. The smoke within brewed and churned. Another beaker added and it turned green. Simon watched with absolute fascination. Only his father had ever done something like this and it was only once.

Penny held the sea cow tongue, the final ingredient, in her hand, just over the pot. But she was unmoving. Simon furrowed his brow.

“What’re you waiting for? Throw it in!”

“Simon,” Penny said. Her tone was sympathetic, that of a worried true friend. “Before I finish this, are you really sure? Do you remember how transformation spells work? Once it’s cast, I can’t turn you back, nothing can. You’ll be stuck unless the time runs out. You’ll...” She closed her eyes, biting back her more morose emotions. “You’ll lose everything you know, Si, possibly forever. So, are you are really, really sure?”

He took a minute, truly letting Penny’s question roll around in his head. Yes, he did know how transformation spells worked. He knew he’d be stuck as a human for at least five days, and yes, possibly forever if the spell was completed. He could permanently lose his magic and his tail. All for the world he’s wanted to learn more about since he was 11. As well as for a new person he couldn’t get out of his head.

There was only one answer.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Penny tightened her mouth, nodded, and finally, she tossed the last ingredient into the stone pot. It exploded in a mushroom cloud of bright greens and blues and purples. It roared like thunder, swirling like a storm. Simon backed up. He couldn’t help but be frightened.

“You gotta say something, Simon,” Penny yelled over the noise.

“Like what?”

“Anything! Just needs to be continuous.”

One thing popped into Simon’s brain. It was a simple vocalisation constantly stuck in his subconscious. It always sounded like it was sung by a woman. Simon sometimes wondered if it was his mother. And even Simon, with his harpy screech of a voice, could copy it.

He sang.

A smoking green hand reached out from the pot. It was bony looking with long claws, twisting towards him. Simon had to stop himself from running, remembering he wanted this. Getting away from David, going to land, meeting Baz, it was all worth the fear. It had to be.

The hand reached down his throat. It was like he’d inhaled a whirlpool, pulling and sucking within his windpipe. He couldn’t think or breathe or do anything but wait. And then he felt it, when the magic took hold. In one second he was singing the remembered song, and in the next he simply no longer could. His own voice was yanked from him, a piece of himself literally ripped away like it was nothing. As if it was plucking a mere hair from his head. The hand left his throat and held his voice out front of him. It was now a tiny golden ball of light, held between two smokey green fingers. He meant to say “Neptune’s beard”.

But no words came out.

The hand turned fiery orange, charged with the power of Simon’s sacrifice. It pulled back into the smoke soup, leaving the tiny sun floating aimlessly. Penny gently took the the orb and shoved it into her shell necklace. A spell only needed an act of sacrifice. So she could save the voice itself. What could she do with it? Who knew. As far as she knew, no one had ever gotten a sacrificed returned to them. Maybe it couldn’t ever be given back, even if the spell timed out. Simon could be voiceless forever no matter what. But she’d save it, just in case, for her best friend.

The smoke roared louder, becoming nearly deafening. Bright light washed out everything else in the room. The room vanished around Simon. Everything happened too fast. An orange bubble snapped around his whole body. The sensation and texture of it reminded him a jellyfish. The pain came next. It felt like a something sharp slicing right through the middle of his tail, splitting the limb in two. It was beyond agonizing. Simon screamed and screamed, but only released more silence.

And just like that, it was all gone. The room was back to normal, with no zero multi-coloured light or thunder. Simon flapped his arms and kicked his feet. His feet , attached to his long human legs. He kicked them frantically, trying to keep himself afloat with their relatively weak power. And...

He couldn’t breathe.

Water filled his lungs instead of passing through them like usual. He clawed at his throat, his eyes bugging out at his friend. He tried to speak with only a look. “Penny I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe!” Penelope gasped and rushed towards him.

Simon's vision started to fill with black spots, his limbs familiar and new becoming heavy. He could barely feel Penny grab him and swim them up out of a hole at the top of her coral house. She swam faster than she ever had before. The water rushed around them as they rocketed towards the light of land above. And soon they burst through the ocean surface.

Simon took a deep gasping breath and came back to life. He floated in the water, new legs treading weakly, still panting heavily. His head slumped onto Penny. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, saying “thank you” with the simple gesture.

Penny patted his hand. “You’re welcome, Simon,” she said, her own breathing laboured. “Let’s get you to your prince.”

Simon nodded. Then he promptly passed out.

Chapter Text

Baz sat on the cliff’s edge, bow dragging across his violin strings. He played the song perfectly, of course. Even if his only audience was the open ocean and the fish below. Malcolm had asked to play outside, out of earshot for Daphne. His music was apparently “too morose” for her nerves. It was always too morose. Baz was pretty sure his family just didn’t like violin music.

With tired arms, he let the instrument fall to his lap. He looked out at the roaring ocean. A shudder ran down his spine involuntarily. Two whole weeks later and the memories still gave him shivers. The yelling on the ship, fire roaring around him, the explosion hurtling his body into the cold, cold waves.

His saviour’s voice.

Malcolm was convinced that Baz had imagined it all. Simply the hallucinations of a drowning man, putting a person in place of the tide that had washed him ashore. Baz knew not to argue. Once his father had decided something, that was the end of the discussion.

Still, he had sounded so beautiful. The words were burned into Baz’s brain. The sound of his voice, from the alto pitch to the slightly rough accent, still rang in his ears. You’re incredible, Baz. I hope you know that.

“ARF ARF!” Max jumped on Baz large paws first.

“Max!” Baz yelled as the massive sheep dog knocked him over, licking his face happily. “Max quit it!”

He still giggled in spite of himself. Even the great solemn Basilton Pitch wasn’t immune to dog adorableness. He eventually pushed himself up again, scratching behind Max’s ears.

“Yes yes, you’re cute and you know it.”

Max panted and licked Baz’s hand again. Then his ears suddenly perked up. His mouth closed as his head whipped around, big black nose twitching.

Baz pulled back. “What is it, boy?”

The sheep dog bolted away, tearing up grass beneath him. Baz scrambled to his feet. If Max got lost or hurt, Mordelia and the twins would kill him. He chased the giant mop down the hill, around the corner and across the beach. Max stopped just behind a large rock, barking loudly at something there. When Baz saw what it was, or rather who it was, he didn’t blame Max for freaking out. He was freaking out too.

It was a boy, no older than Baz himself, lying face first in the sand. His hair was a damp mess of bronze curls tangled with seaweed. His skin was another shade of gold, covered in freckles and moles, but caked with wet sand. Slowly, he lifted his head up, blinking sleepily as he focused on Baz. Bit by bit, a smile crept across his unfairly gorgeous face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Baz almost gave up on breathing. The man’s eyes were plain blue. Not navy. Not cornflower. Not shot with hazel or violet. Just, blue. Yet somehow, it was the most breathtaking colour Baz had ever seen.

“Oh my,” he whispered. Though this man was handsome, Baz had to look away. For he was also completely naked.

Baz looked around the beach, and his eyes landed on an old piece of sail cloth. Not exactly fine couture, but it would do. He quickly grabbed the white cloth and held it out behind him to the mystery boy.

“Here,” he said quickly.

Many moments passed and Baz was still holding the cloth. Cautiously, he turned his head. Max sat obediently next to the stranger, tongue hanging out and tail wagging, waiting with characteristic excitement. The boy himself was kneeling on the sand, looking at the sail curiously. His bronze eyebrows furrowed together, lips pulled into a pouting frown. Baz found it insanely adorable. But he looked away again to resist temptation to look any lower.

“You can wear it,” Baz explained, a slight annoyed edge to his voice. “As clothing.”

The boy finally took the cloth, much to Baz’s relief. When he turned, he was mostly covered, but still struggling to wind it around himself. Baz shook his head with a sigh. Whoever this infinitely gorgeous man was, he was a little clumsy and possibly a bit dim. But...in a very cute way.

Baz put down his violin and kneeled in front of him. “Here, let me help,” he grumbled.

He helped wrapped the large fabric piece around him, then threw a corner over the stranger’s shoulder, turning it into a sort of Greek toga. A piece of frayed rope hung around the middle. So Baz tied it his waist to better hold up the makeshift outfit.

“There. Now you’re actually decent.”

Baz took gave him a good once over. The robe looked strange, but at least it covered him. The mystery man pulled and scratched at the fabric, like he wasn’t used to the sensation of it. Baz chewed on his lip. For some reason, his blue eyes and gold colouring seemed strangely familiar...

“So,” Baz said, voice pretending to be disinterested, “I should say hello, I suppose. May I ask your name?” The boy’s head snapped up and he nodded vigorously, a smile splitting across his face. Baz gave a half smile back. The anticipation for hearing his voice was reluctantly building. “Well then, spit it out. Don’t feel the need to build suspense.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but much to Baz’s shock and confusion, nothing came out. His lips and tongue moved like they were forming words, but there was only silence. The mystery man’s face fell, mouth slightly open and blue eyes round. His expression was somewhere between disappointed and forlorn. He softly traced over his freckled throat.

Baz’s heart sank. It’s not him, he thought sadly. It was a long shot to start with, but he was still disappointed. And this stranger looked so sad. Baz usually had little sympathy for anyone, but he certainly felt bad for this man. With an expression like that, there was no way he couldn’t. He shuffled forward a bit, knees nearly touching the man opposite him.

“You can’t speak?” Stranger shook his head, damp bronze curls shaking sadly. The corners of his lips turned down in a frown. It was a truly forlorn expression rather than confused like before. Baz pondered what to do. How was he supposed to learn about this man when he had no voice? But, words didn’t have to be spoken to be understood, really.

“Hey,” he said, catching his strange companion’s attention. “Can you spell it out? Your name?” The boy perked up and nodded. Baz offered his palm. “Then spell it here.”

Mystery boy’s eyes went wide for a second. He cautiously cupped Baz’s hand, fingertips dragging delicately there for a little longer than normal. Baz found the his hands strangely smooth, like sea glass. Much smoother than his own rough hands. (Everyone in his family tended to have rough hands.)

He pressed a smooth finger to Baz’s palm, and began to move it. “S...” Baz started, following his tracing. “I...M...O...N” He looked up at him with pulled together black brows. “Simon? Your name is Simon?”

The boy, or Simon, nodded rapidly. Baz nodded along with him. “Okay. Hello, Simon. I’m Baz.”

Simon tried to say “I know” back, but only breathed out more silence. His face twisted in frustration. Considering how rarely he used his voice when he had it, it was strange how much he missed it now. He wanted to shout at Baz. Shout, yes! I know! I know you’re name because I saved your life. And I saved you because you’re honourable and brave. I’m here now because I want to know even more about you and your amazing world.

But Simon had no voice to use. He thought about spelling it out in the sand. But...telling Baz would lead to difficult questions. “Where did you come from?” “How did you save me?” “What are you?” All of which he didn’t know how to answer yet.

Quickly, Simon perked up again, and just waved with a wide grin. Baz couldn’t help but smile. It was too damn cute.

“Well,” Baz said firmly, “do you live in Watford? Anywhere to stay?” Simon sighed and shook his head. “Okay then. You’ll have to come stay with me for now, I suppose. It only makes sense. Alright?”

Simon nodded again, so hard Baz feared his head would snap off. Baz stood up, and Simon followed. But suddenly, his legs wobbled like an unstable fawn and he fell forward.

“Shit! Careful!” Baz shouted just as he caught him. Max barked furiously at them both. Simon gripped his forearms, breathing heavily. Wow, he thought, legs are fucking weird . He looked up at Baz nervously. Simon’s heart was beating so hard with anticipation and happiness he feared it would burst.

While Baz, he felt his stomach drop like a lead weight. He had a terrible feeling that he could get lost in those plain blue eyes, and spend ages mapping the constellations of moles and freckles on this Simon’s face. He was beautiful in a way that physically ached. Even when he was awkwardly bent over in front of Baz with shaky legs, clutching to him for dear life, and dressed in a bloody tattered sail. Baz knew he was playing with fire. That these feelings were dangerous in so many ways.

But Baz had always had a thing for fire.

He hoisted Simon to his feet, then wrapped one of his arms around his neck. Simon leaned against him. His skin felt unbelievably electric on Baz’s. But Baz tried to ignore that for now in favour of helping his new companion just walk. That was the more important task.

“C’mon, one foot in front of the other,” Baz grumbled, though still going slowly as an example. Simon followed and got steadier with every step. Max barked as trotted along, almost like he was giving encouragement. Baz didn’t let go of Simon until they reached the castle. And he certainly didn’t let go of Baz.

“What on earth were you thinking, Basil?”

His father’s tone made Baz flinch. The last time he sounded like this was when he caught Baz smoking a pipe in a shed. What was scary was that Malcolm didn’t even need to raise his voice. The cold disapprovement was cutting enough.

“I was thinking of being a good future ruler,” he replied coolly.

“By taking in a stray?” Malcolm stood from his chair to better loom over his son. But Baz wasn’t intimidated. He merely straightened his back, clasping his long fingered hands in his lap.

“By taking in a misfortunate youth with no voice who washed up on the shores of our kingdom, probably from a shipwreck. I say that’s a noble cause worthy of a crown prince. Wouldn’t you?”

Malcolm scowled, teeth grinding together. “How do we know he’s not a spy from another kingdom? Sent to collect information?”

Baz scoffed. “Your paranoia has reached new heights, Father. But no, I don’t believe a boy no older than myself, that I found naked on a beach and could barely walk a mere few hours ago, is a spy.”

Malcolm seemed to ponder this for a moment, slowly sliding his bottom jaw back and forth. Baz just sat there, pretending he wasn’t nervous, when really a storm was brewing in the pit of his stomach. But when Malcolm let out his breath, so did Baz.

“Very well,” Malcolm grumbled. “He can stay for the time being. But he’s your responsibility, Basilton. Understood?”

Baz stood up, straightening his tunic. “Of course. I’ll feed him, play with him, and take him out for walks when he gets restless. Just like Max.” He earned a glare from his father, but Malcolm still waved him away. Baz breathed a long sigh of relief the second he was out the door.

When Baz entered his room, pushing apart the double doors, he immediately froze. There sat Simon, sitting on his bed. He wore a loose silk salmon colored tunic with tight waisted white riding trousers. They were Baz’s, given to Simon after the bath Daphne insisted he take. The sleeves and pant legs were rolled up to accommodate Simon’s shorter height. They were definitely more comfortable than a tattered sail. With the seaweed out of his hair and mud off his body, Simon looked even more beautiful. His wild curls shone brighter bronze, his freckled skin now all a gorgeous dirt-free tawny.

Baz wished he could fully appreciate him. But Mordelia’s presence put a damper on it.

“Your name is Simon, right?” she chirped, and he nodded. “Where are you from? Do you have parents? Do you have friends? Is Baz your friend now? He’s sort of a tosser though, so I wouldn’t be his friend. Are you-”

“Mordelia!” Baz barked, making both her and Simon jump and stare at him. “Stop bugging him and get out.”

“But-”

“Not ‘buts’, Mordy. Get out!”

Mordelia pouted, bottom lip unnecessarily pushed out. She shoulder checked him on the way out. Baz slammed the door behind her. He groaned, shaking his head.

“Sorry about that,” Baz grumbled. “My little sister is a royal pest.”

Simon shrugged, mouth spelling out but not saying, “it’s fine” . Baz sat opposite him on the bed. Simon was cross legged, hands holding his ankles. He was even more gorgeous up close. Baz could see the gold highlights created in his hair by candlelight and count every individual moles on his face. (Three on his right cheek, two below his left ear, and one under his left eye.) The smell of soap wafted off him. It reminded Baz of something brown and sweet. He tried very hard to ignore his brain, which just kept saying, there’s a beautiful boy in my bed, beautiful boy in my bed, beautiful boy in my bed!

Baz shook the thoughts from his head. “So how are you feeling? Much cleaner, I suppose.”

Simon smiled and held one thumb up. Baz chuckled.

“My father agreed to let you stay with us for the time being. Thankfully, he’s decided not to be a complete arsehole for once. You can sleep in the guest room next door. Is that alright?” Simon nodded. “Good. How are the clothes?”

He pouted again (how was it so cute?) and scratched at the sleeve. Simon shrugged, shoulders coming to his ears.

“Itchy?” Baz asked, and Simon nodded again with his cute frown. It wasn’t that bad actually, just unfamiliar to the former merman. Though he was starting to get used to it. Baz sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head. “It’s the softest silk I could find, Simon. I’m not sure we have anything better for your apparently delicate tastes.”

Simon rolled his eyes. Years of being friends with Penelope had trained him well for sarcastic remarks. His expression said with equal mocking, “I’ll live.”

Baz couldn’t help but give a lopsided smile. Just one half of his mouth pulled up. Baz didn’t like to smile, or show his emotions period. But this sunshiny boy, with his blue eyes and bronze curls, seemed to attack all his defenses. It was a scary and wonderful thing all at once.

“C’mon,” Baz said, gesturing as he slid off the bed. “It’s supper time.”

Simon jumped off the mattress with a bounce. He grinned with all his teeth, hiding none of his radiant joy. Baz chuckled under his breath. This Simon was certainly strange, but also entertaining, and endearingly sweet. Baz couldn’t ignore the way that made his heart stutter.

Dinner with the Grimm family was usually just that, grim. It was conducted without speaking, save for the occasional kingdom matters discussion between Malcolm and Daphne. So when Baz and Simon arrived at the table, the deafening silence was not out of the ordinary for the prince. But Simon found it a bit strange. Baz’s father looked like a white haired sea snake, ready to go for the kill at any moment. And everyone else, including the baby, just looked bored. Was this how all humans ate meals? Or just these ones?

“Basil,” Malcolm said.

“Father,” Baz replied coolly.

They took their seats opposite all of Baz’s younger siblings. Baz noticed that Simon looked down at the place setting with confusion, like he’d never seen one before. He picked up the fork and spun it in his fingers, examining it with a close eye. Then, to everyone’s confusion and slight horror, he started running the tongs through his bronze curls. He combed the ringlets up with a wide grin on his face. Malcolm and Daphne’s eyes went wide. Mordelia and the twins tried to contain their laughter. The baby didn’t even try, burbling with giggles. Baz put his fist to his mouth to hide the smile he couldn’t help.

Simon suddenly noticed everyone staring, freezing with the fork still wound in his thick hair. Baz slowly reached up and pulled his fork holding hand down. He shook his head slowly. Simon promptly turned beet red, flushed all the way to his ears and neck as he looked down. The children were still giggling. Baz patted Simon’s hand reassuringly under the table. Simon’s eyes flicked over to him, lips pulled up in an apologetic smile. He hooked a finger around Baz’s for, just a second. And Baz nearly turned just as red as him.

“Dinner is served,” a servant thankfully announced.

Silver plates were brought out from the kitchen, placed on the long mahogany table in front of every person. The servants lifted the silver covers. Puree for the baby, roasted chicken for the kids, and red crab with garden salads for the adults. Simon was immediately taken aback, pushing against his chair with wide eyes.

Simon didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t really explain that he was actually a merman who’d never eaten a sea creature. He ate sea vegetables mostly or animals captured from land. But never another living thing from the ocean. It felt sort of wrong. It would be impossible to explain even with words. So he just poked at the crab shell with his fork over and over again.

“Simon,” Baz started with exasperated tone, “don’t you know it’s rude to play wi-”

Simon looked up and Baz’s breath immediately hitched. He looked pained, face all pinched up like someone had needled him the gut. He poked the shellfish again and shrugged.

“What? Not a fan of crab?”

Simon shook his head, bent over in embarrassment. He didn’t like this. It was just reminding him that as much as he loved it, he wasn’t really a part of this world. But at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do something so against his nature.

Baz sighed, long and heavy. If this were anyone else, he’d tell them to just get over it. But Simon’s face, red and ashamed and distressed, could somehow not be so easily dismissed by him. Once again, his cold defences faltered under sunshine. So he turned to the kitchen and called, “Chef Pritchard, it appears our guest here is picky and doesn't wish to eat the crab. Can you please get him something else?”

“Of course, your highness,” the chef replied.

“Thank you.”

A serving man whisked away Simon’s crab plate. Simon looked at Baz with what he hoped was a thankful enough expression. If Simon had complained like that to his father, he would’ve been told to suck it up. But for once, he didn’t feel stupid for voicing his opinion (well, voicing in a way.) Baz merely nodded in acknowledgement. But Simon didn’t miss the soft pull at the corners of his lips. It made Simon’s stomach feel so warm.

As Baz ate his crab, he tried to will his blush to disappear. He prayed to God his father didn’t notice. And maybe, just a little, that Simon did.

Later that night, Simon laid in the plush bed, staring up at the ceiling. Candle light from his bedside flickered shadows across the stone. The images was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Poseidon’s Beard, everything was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He didn’t know a bed could be so soft and not made of coral. He’d never realised how great clothes could feel, now that he was used to them. And even though legs were still strange (how did the humans operate two limbs at once to move?!), he took great enjoyment in the little things he could do with them. Like wiggle his toes and shuffle his feet on the carpet. He really liked this whole being human thing.

“Simon!”

Simon bolted up in bed. He looked around his empty room. The only sound was a tapping at the window behind his bed. Cautiously, he turned to it. A seagull was hitting the glass with it’s bill. What in Neptune’s name , Simon thought.

“Simon!” It screeched again. Simon scrambled back, wondering if that spell had messed with his brain as well as changed his body. Wait, he knew that voice.

“Penny?” Simon mouthed. The seagull nodded.

“Yes, it’s me, Simon. Open the damn window.”

He cautiously crawled forward and unlatched the window. Seagull-Penny flew in, landing on Simon’s mattress. She ruffled her white feathers and grinned as best she could with a seagull beak.

“Neat, huh?” She said. “My possession has gotten much better.”

Clearly, Simon thought, nodding slowly.

“How’s the prince seduction going? He kiss you yet?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. It’d only been a day. Penelope was obviously being optimistic just to make him feel better.

She sighed, which came out more as a honk. “That’s too bad. Hope he does it soon.”

He reached forward and patted her feathered head, mouthing, “me too.”

“How is he, anyway, your prince? When he’s not unconscious. Do you like him?”

Simon chuckled, then sighed dreamily. It was odd. Baz was wonderful in the most confounding ways. He did nice things for Simon with sarcasm attached but did them all the same. And it wasn’t the truly cruel berating Simon was used to from his father. Baz was a very strange, very good person. So Simon did like him, quite a lot.

He could feel the colour creeping up his cheeks. (That kept happening today.) He bit at his bottom lip and nodded. Penny smiled brightly with her seagull face.

“Marvelous. Glad you didn’t sacrifice your voice and magic for nothing.”

He laughed without sound, head thrown back. Penelope the Seagull honked as well.

“Simon?” Baz said from outside the door, knocking once.

Simon’s spine straightened, and Penny-Gull froze. “Shit,” she hissed. “I’ll see you later. Promise.” Simon nodded in agreement as he shooed her out the window, latching it behind her. He rushed to the door, smoothing his hair once before opening it.

Baz stumbled back as Simon shoved his head through the crack. He nearly dropped the plate in his hand. Simon just looked at him with a grin, not moving to open the door further.

“May I come in?” He asked, both annoyed and amused. Simon’s mouth formed an ‘o’, then he nodded, opening the door all the way.

Simon sped walked to his bed and jumped on it with a thump. Baz sat gingerly in front of him. He placed the cloth covered plate between them. Simon looked at it with profound confusion.

“Ah, here,” Baz said. He pulled off the napkin to reveal six freshly baked pastries. “Compliments of Chef Pritchard. She wanted to welcome you with her specialty. They’re called sour cherry scones. Try one, they’re quiet good.”

Simon picked one up gingerly. It was warm, crumbly, and smelt wonderful. He took a cautious bite, and his eyes went wide. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. The sugary, fruity taste exploded over his tongue. He chomped down, finishing it in three bites. He took another and ate it just as ravenously. Baz make a slightly horrified noise.

“Dear lord,” he chuckled. “Your manners are absolutely atrocious.”

Simon stuck his scone crumb covered tongue out and took another defiant bite. Baz chuckled more, picking up a treat before Simon ate all of them. Far too soon though, Simon had consumed every last cherry flavoured crumb. He licked his fingers happily. Baz tried to shove down all the inappropriate thoughts that motion created.

“So,” Baz started, “tomorrow I have a dreadfully boring council meeting in the afternoon. But I’m free in the morning. Would you...like to do something?”

Simon nodded vigorously. Yes please, yes please, he thought. Baz nodded only once.

“Good. Get a good night’s rest, then. We’ll have to wake early.” He picked up the empty scone plate and stood straight backed by the bed. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Simon beamed brightly and waved, mouthing “goodnight” with a smile. Baz smiled politely, then grinned wider as he walked out the door.

Once he heard the click of the doorknob, Simon sighed and fell back onto his mattress. He felt like he was floating. For the first time, his life felt like his own. No worrying about his stupid magic or his father’s expectations. Just imagining what he would do with Baz tomorrow. And by Neptune, he couldn’t wait.

He blew out his candle and snuggled down into his pillow. As he dreamt, all Simon saw was grey eyes and raven hair.

Chapter Text

Baz woke to the sunlight washing over him through the open window. Which was strange, because Baz never left his windows open. He hated direct sunlight, especially in the morning. (Mordelia called him a vampire constantly).

So he growled as he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he groggily stomped towards it. “Who the fuck left the window o-”

On the ledge was a scrap of parchment. In terrifyingly bad chicken scratch was a single word, “Morning.” Mordelia’s handwriting was better than this, his other siblings couldn’t even write, and neither Daphne nor his father would nver leave poorly written notes in the morning. There was only one possible culprit.

“So he can write,” Baz mused. “Even if it’s very poorly.”

Baz briefly thought about marching up to Simon and demanding he write out his life story. Who he was, how he ended up here, why he couldn’t speak. But Baz was an arsehole, not a monster. Simon couldn’t even walk yesterday. Whatever happened to him must’ve been traumatic. And pushing him could result in Simon pulling away, truly a terrible possibility.

Christ, Baz really did have a soft spot for him. How stange.

He got ready quickly, washing his face and slicking his hair back at light speed, then dressed in his usual white shirt, dark pants, and leather riding boots. He speed walked towards the dining room, earning odd looks from the castle staff. They knew Prince Basilton was never excited about, well, anything. Especially this early in the morning.

When he walked into the dining hall, Baz expected the breakfast table to be silent, as usual. But instead there were loud, raucous laughs ringing through the air. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. There was Simon, dressed in the most garish purple shirt and aquamarine trousers (Baz’s old clothes that he’d gladly gifted to him), playing peek-a-boo with his baby brother. Simon put his hands over his face, then ripped them away to reveal a ridiculous expression. First his eyes were pulled back and his lips wide open, then sticking his tongue up to his nose, and then using two fingers to pull his mouth apart. Every single one made the baby shriek with giggles. Mordelia and the twins laughed loudly too. Even Daphne and Malcolm looked somewhat amused.

“Good morning, Basilton,” Malcolm said. “How did you sleep?”

Baz took his seat next to Simon. “Perfectly well, Father. Thank you.” He didn’t mention that his wonderful sleep included dreams about a certain beautiful boy. That would cause quite the ruckus.

Simon waved happily at Baz, then continued with his silly face show, each more stupid than the last. It was impossible for Baz not to smile as well. In the past two meals, there had been more laughter at this table than there had been in years. And to his own surprise, Baz actually enjoyed it.

“So, Simon,” Baz started, momentarily distracting the boy from his antics. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do today? Or would you prefer to continue playing court jester?”

Simon rolled his eyes. He’d be offended if Baz wasn’t smirking so obviously. Then he shrugged, because he genuinely had no idea what to do on land. If he was still in the ocean, he’d go exploring for human things. But now he was surrounded by human things. He didn’t really know where to start.

“Well, I usually practice horseback riding on weekends. Would you like to try?”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. When he heard horse, he immediately thought of seahorses. Those puny things were far too small to ride. What kind of horses did the surface have?! Baz lifted one of his own brows.

“What, never been horseback riding?”

He shook his head, bronze curls swishing back and forth. Baz smirked even more, pushing the plate of sour cherry scones towards him.

“Then eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

Simon was tempted to ask for more information, but it was difficult to think with warm cherry smell wafting up into his nose. So he just shrugged and started chomping down on the pastries. He could probably live on these things. Mordelia stopped him though, but only to show him how to slather something called butter on them. Soon he was piling practical bricks of butter onto every scone. Baz rolled his eyes, but smiled behind his teacup.

Baz had been riding horses almost all his life. It was required that a prince know how to ride. Baz despised it at first, but now he had an appreciation for it. He brushed his white horse, Ivory’s, soft mane. Usually stable hands did this, but Baz prefered to do it himself. He preferred to most things himself to make sure they were done right. God, maybe he was like his father, at least a little. What a terrifying thought.

Simon knocked on the stable door, standing there looking very confused. Baz gestured for him to come in. Simon walked towards him with cautious gait. He was like a nervous puppy, practically tip toeing on the hay. He looked at the horses like they were going to jump out at him.

“It’s alright, Simon,” Baz called. “They don’t bite.”

Simon wasn’t sure that was true. He’d never seen animals like this before. They weren’t scary exactly, just incredibly unfamiliar. There were things in the deep sea that were much more intimidating than these long nosed beasts. But still, when one of them made an odd noise, he silently yelped and ran towards Baz.

The prince chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I think our first step will have to be getting you less terrified of the horses.”

I’m not terrified , Simon thought, pouting like an angry small child. Baz found it painfully cute.

“Now, would you please to give me your hand?”

Simon nodded and cautiously offered out his shaking hand, palm towards the sky. Baz took it, and Simon’s breath hitched again. His fingers were so strangely rough, very scratchy and calloused in a way prince’s probably shouldn’t. But Baz was made of fascinating contradictions. This was just one more.

“Put your hand on her neck, like this.”

He placed Simon’s palm on the beast’s body. She made that strange sound, and he almost pulled away. But Baz kept him there with a kind but firm grip.

“It’s alright, she’s very tame. Now just pet her slowly, like this.” He dragged Simon’s hand up and down, over and over again. Ivory made a few more grunts, but didn’t move. Slowly, Baz let go of his hand, leaving Simon to do it alone. The strands of horsehair ran between his fingers. It was impossibly soft. Simon giggled soundlessly. Baz’s face immediately felt hotter.

“There you go. Not so scary now, hm?”

Simon rolled his eyes. I was never scared , he wanted to to say defiantly. Baz smirked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Now, shall we both ride our own...” Simon shook his head vigorously. Okay, maybe he was just a bit scared. Baz chuckled. “Very well. Would you like to try steering her?”

Simon inhaled sharply. He wasn’t sure that was the smartest idea. But he came here to learn about human things, and this was certainly a human thing. So he nodded cautiously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take control if it gets too difficult.”

Simon kept nodding, trying to ignore the storm brewing in his stomach. It was an excited storm, but a storm all the same.

“Now, put your foot here.” Baz pointed at the dangling metal triangle hanging from the weird thing on the horse’s back. “Then swing your leg over the saddle. Got it?”

He nodded, then put his foot in the weird metal thing. But he didn’t get his leg around, promptly losing his balance and falling backwards. Baz thankfully caught him. For such a skinny guy he was quite strong. Simon tried to not imagine Baz carrying him in those weirdly strong arms. (It was very difficult.)

“Careful,” he groaned. “Christ on a cross, you’d think you learned to walk yesterday.”

I did , Simon internally snapped. He threw himself forward, clinging to the saddle thing, then scrambled up to lay on his stomach. With more effort than probably necessary, he swung his uncoordinated leg around to the other side. It only took a little adjusting to sit upright. He turned to Baz with a very self satisfied grin. Baz rolled his eyes, but it was with his own smile.

“Congratulations, Simon. Step one achieved. Now let’s get out there.”

Baz grabbed the black leather reins and tug softly. Ivory followed at a gentle pace. But Simon still jumped with surprise. He held the saddle with a death grip. He’d swam through undersea currents and been less scared.

They exited the large barn into the expansive field. Simon eyes widened, mouth falling open. It was endless, almost as endless as the ocean, but even more beautiful. There were multi coloured flowers that wound through the grass, vines wrapping around the big trees, and birds chirping in the sky. It was amazing seeing the human land up close, instead of from afar where he had to hide.

Baz took in Simon’s awestruck expression. He looked at everything with such fascination and wonder. It somehow gave the pasture Baz had been riding in for years a new light. Everything simply became, brighter with Simon.

“Alright, shift forward, Simon. Let me get up.”

Simon shimmied forward. Baz saddled up with characteristic grace, doing it in a single fluid motion. His front was pressed right against Simon’s back. Simon was so glad Baz couldn’t see his embarrassingly red face. Little did he know Baz was in the exact same state.

“Okay,” Baz said firmly. “Now squeeze your legs a bit, and flick the reins. Like this.” Baz made the motions. Simon nodded, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, and copied him.

Ivory went into a walk, moving delicately across the field. Wow , Simon thought, not that scary. This is actually...pretty fun.

Baz chuckled, patting Simon’s arm. “Perfect. You’re a natural.”

Simon tilted his head back. He was beaming, equal parts excited and relishing in Baz’s praise. Getting a genuine compliment from him felt like finding the greatest treasure. No silver thingamabob could compare.

“Now, if you squeeze harder, she can go faster. But not too fast- Ah!”

Simon did not listen. He squeezed and leaned forward as Ivory broke into a run. They soared across the green field. The pasture was thankfully mostly empty. So he only had to turn a few times. It wasn’t that hard for him to figure out, just tug on the rein things gently.

Baz wrapped his arms around Simon’s middle. If he wasn’t so terrified he’d be elated. (Well, he was elated. But still mostly terrified.) “Simon! Slow down!”

If Simon had a voice, he’d be howling with laughter.

From a window of the castle, Mordelia was watching with her elbows on the sill and chin in hands. One of her little sisters climbed up next to her.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Baz is letting Simon ride Ivory,” Mordelia replied.

The younger girl watched as Ivory flew across the field back and forth, Baz clutching Simon for dear life and Simon silently cackling. “It looks like it was a bad idea.”

“Very bad.”

“Baz must like him a lot.”

“He does.”

“I didn’t think he could like anyone.”

“Me neither.”

Back on the field, Simon rode around the entire greenery before finally slowing Ivory down. Baz was breathing heavily, still in too much shock to remove his arms from Simon’s waist. Not that either of them were complaining.

“You,” Baz breathed out, “are a mad man.”

Simon shrugged, smirking without shame. He had been called a mad man more than once. It was a title he wore proudly.

Baz shoved his shoulder lightly. “Alright, my turn. Switch.”

The mischievous glint in Baz’s eye made Simon equal parts scared and excited. It took a couple minutes for them to dismount and switch. Simon struggled to get up on Ivory, again. (He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.) But once he got his balance, he immediately held onto Baz’s waist. No hesitation whatsoever. Baz’s breath hitched quietly. My god, he thought, this man will surely be the death of me.

“Hyah!” Baz shouted, flicking the reins, and Ivory broke into another run.

Simon was briefly thrown back, but found stability when he wound his arms tighter around Baz’s. His cheek was pressed firmly against Baz’s shoulder blade. He heard Baz laugh loudly, and could feel his terrifyingly fast heartbeat thumping in his ear. Simon really, really hoped that was caused by himself more than fast horse riding.

They did three circuits of the field, running fast enough to feel the wind in their ears. The world became a blue-green blur around them. It was only them, nothing else. And Baz would’ve gone around a thousand more times, just for Simon to keep hanging onto him.

But Ivory was obviously getting tired. He slowed her to a trot, then a simple walk. Simon still didn’t let go though. Not that either of them were complaining.

Baz craned his head back. “So, how did you like it? Not so great in the back, hm?”

Simon glared up at him, blue eyes narrowed. He wished the smug look on Baz’s face wasn’t so damn attractive

“C’mon,” Baz said coolly, “let’s give Ivory some rest and go inside. I can give you the proper tour of the castle.”

Simon nodded. They rode Ivory back to the stable, and Simon didn’t let go of Baz’s waist until they had to get off.

“Here’s a portrait of a field in our kingdom. And another. And another. And one more, just in case there weren’t enough reminders that my father is descended from farmers.”

Simon nodded in mostly genuine interest, munching on the scone he’d picked up from the kitchen. Baz’s entire tour had been like this, equal parts sarcastic humour and actual history. Apparently this grand castle, made of stone and covered in fine cloths with fire symbols on them, was built by Baz’s maternal ancestors, as they’re the actual royalty. His father’s family was still nobility, but apparently of much lower birth than rulers.

Simon sort of got it. Merfolk had a similar system, but it was based on magic rather than bloodlines. The more powerful magicians were usually more respected than the weaker ones. David had always railed against it, saying all merfolk should be equal. But he never let go of of his trident. “Hypocritical” was the word Penelope liked to use.

“And finally, we reach my personal favourite room.” Baz pushed open the double doors in an overly grandiose manner, but he liked to make a show. “The library.”

Simon nearly dropped his scone. He didn’t know what he was looking at. There were crisp white walls reaching to the high ceiling, but the walls were actually towering shelves, and weird...things were on them. Simon ran up and pressed his finger to one. It was thin, and felt strange and rough, but not as scratchy as Baz’s hands. There were letters on it. Were these the human version of tablets?

Baz strolled up behind him. “What, never seen a book before?”

Simon shook his head honestly. Baz chuckled and plucked the volume from the shelf. It was a collection of poems.

“Ever heard poetry?” He asked. Simon shook his head again, which Baz expected. He motioned for Simon to follow him to the royal purple couch. “It’s like words that create pictures. Come here, I’ll read you one.”

Simon happily jumped into his seat, legs crossed under him. He loved hearing people read. Well, he loved hearing Penelope read. But he bet Baz wasn’t any different. Baz sat delicately next to him and opened the book.

“The Snow Man,” Baz said, voice smooth and melodious. “‘One must have a mind of winter; To regard the frost and the boughs; Of the pine-trees crusted with snow-’ What, Simon?”

Simon was poking at his shoulder, frowning in an incredibly confused fashion. He pointed insistently at the word ‘snow’. He knew of no other way to indicate his lack of knowledge. Baz kept staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. Simon pointed even harder but Baz’s own confusion didn’t let up. Simon sighed heavily and dragged his fingers down his face. He hadn’t been this frustrated since he had tried a whirlpool spell. (He’d barely formed a finger sized funnel, then got angry and nearly destroyed an entire underwater cliffside. Not a good day.)

“Wait,” Baz said, a slight chuckle in his voice. “Do you, not know what snow is?”

Simon nodded rapidly, and Baz unsuccessfully stifled a snorty laugh, more derisive than sarcastic. Simon scowled, crossing his arms and turning his body away. He didn’t like feeling stupid. His father did that. Always making him feel dumb for just asking a question, and Simon literally gave up his whole life to escape him. Right now, this felt just a little too close to David for comfort.

Suddenly, he felt a scratchy palm touch his shoulder, long fingers curling over the bone. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see Baz’s kind smile. Everything sharp and scary about his face was softened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely apologetic. “I understand. This is a very southern kingdom. There’s barely ever snow here. I’ve only seen it when I’ve travelled north.”

Simon’s anger melted away. Baz didn’t mean make Simon feel stupid. And ever since coming to Watford and escaping his father, Simon truly felt like he wasn’t.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Baz said, shifting closer. He held the book out. Simon craned his neck over it. There was a small drawing of field. But it wasn’t green, like the one Simon had seen earlier. Little white flecks fell from the sky onto the crisp white ground. Pine trees looked like they were dusted with sugar, like on some of Cook Pritchard’s pastries. There was a sculpture in the middle, made of three white balls with a little top hat and black rock smile.

“See, that’s snow. It’s appears when the weather gets so cold that rain turns solid. It becomes, well, cold, and white. You can play with it. Roll in it, throw it, and make snowmen, like this one. Understand?”

Simon nodded slowly, even though he still didn’t really fully understand. He knew Baz was trying his best. Like Penny did with magic. He traced a finger over the picture. How he wanted it to be real. To see snow, to feel it in his hands

“I’d show it to you for real, if I could,” Baz said, almost like he was reading Simon’s mind. “Maybe I will, someday. Would you like that?”

Yes, if we had more time , Simon thought sadly. Hopefully I can make you fall in love with me before it’s too late. But he couldn’t say that of course. So he simply smiled and nodded. Baz smiled back.

“Excellent.” Baz’s eyes flicked to the clock against the wall. “Bloody hell, I have to go to that blasted meeting. Can I trust you to entertain yourself without hurting yourself?”

Simon stuck his tongue out, but still nodded. Baz passed the book to him. “Feel free to read what you want. Just put any books back when you’re done. Alright?”

Simon nodded for a third time. Baz smiled, his heart feeling a bit lighter than before. “I’ll see you later.”

Simon waved happily. “Have fun,” he mouthed back. Baz rolled his eyes. He would absolutely not have fun, that was for sure. But at least he had something (or someone) to daydream about to get through it.

This library fascinated Simon. It was like the Penelope’s spell collection, but, well, more than just spells. It had long stories, short stories, and this “poetry” Baz had talked about. All the words were weaved together to create an image or a feeling. Simon preferred the books with pictures though. Merfolk carvings were just sort of flat and grey and nothing but jagged lines to sort of create an abstract image. These ones had vibrant colours, depictions of human lands, and even humans themselves. Some he liked better than others, but all were interesting.

He slowly worked his way through many books, always putting them back when he was done like Baz had said. He moved deeper and deeper into the room. Every new book made the time slip away. Simon put away his latest volume, and he realised he’d reached the end of the shelf. Well, there was another one to go to-

Simon froze. He had no idea what he was looking at. It was like a picture from the books but...a lot bigger, and surrounded by gold in a square. He could tell what the picture essentially was. It showed a human woman in a black and red gown, sitting on a plush purple throne. But the details were what interested him. Her skin was reddish-gold, cheekbones high and sharp, small-ish eyes a deep sea grey. A gold crown sat atop her curly raven hair. The expression on her face was emotionless and regal. She looked strangely familiar. She looked just like B-

“That’s Queen Natasha, by the way.”

Simon jumped nearly two feet in the air in surprise, arms flying out. Mordelia giggled almost maniacally. Max stood next to her, panting and wagging his tail. Simon glared, hands on his hips. But he couldn’t help but pet Max. The dog was too adorable

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still catching her breath. “It was just too easy.”

Simon rolled his eyes and turned back to the portrait. He noticed the small golden plaque under it. It read, “Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch, commissioned on her coronation day. Long may she reign.” Well, at least Mordelia wasn’t lying.

“She was Baz’s Mum,” she stated simply. Simon eyes bugged out of his skull. Though what Mordelia said made sense, (Baz certainly didn’t look like the rest of his pale skinned, brown haired family), it created other questions too. He looked at Mordelia, hoping his expression conveyed the chaotic storm of confusion going on in his head.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mordelia said, rocking back and forth on her heels. “‘How can this be Baz’s Mum if Baz is my brother?’ Well, we have the same dad, but not the same mum. Mine’s Lady Daphne. But Baz’s mum is Queen Natasha. She died a long time ago. I don’t know how. No one will tell me. Everyone says I’m too young.”

Mordelia probably thought she’d answer Simon’s questions. And she had, but still created a hundred more. When had she died? How had she died? Why hadn’t Baz told him? Was Baz okay?

“Mordelia!” Both Simon and Mordelia turned to the entrance way. Baz stood there, fuming, scowling, fists clenched so hard it probably hurt. He stomped his way over to them. Mordelia and Max shrunk away with every step.

“What did I say about bothering Simon?!”

“I’m sorry!” She shouted. “I was just wandering, and Simon was here, and he was looking at-”

Baz’s eyes flicked to the side and he inhaled very sharply. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes, just for a brief second. But that quickly turned to a terrifying cold fury. He looked at Mordelia with such calm anger it made Simon shudder.

“Leave,” he said quietly. His voice was like ice, piercing and intense.

“Baz, I’m sor-”

“I said LEAVE! ” He boomed. Ice suddenly turned into a burning inferno.

Mordelia sniffled and ran off, tears in her eyes, Max following behind. Simon flinched. He had learned Baz was snarky and one for teasing remarks, but that was something else. That was mean in a way that cut deep. He’d just made his eight year old sister cry. Who did that?

Baz took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He slicked back his stray black hairs and straightened his shirt.

“Sorry about that. She can be such a brat sometimes,” he said flatly, like what just happened was normal. “The meeting was dreadfully boring. Did you enjoy the library?”

Simon smacked his shoulder. A bit harder than he meant, but it got the point across. Baz held his arm, frowning at Simon with equal parts confusion and distaste.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

Simon gestured first the door that Mordelia ran out of crying, then to the painting, and then just towards to sky to indicate his resounding confusion and anger with him. Baz sighed heavily and hung his head.

“Ah, that. It was perfectly justified. Whatever Mordelia told you about...” his eyes flicked to the painting for a second, and they softened with pain, “her, she shouldn’t have. She’s too young to really know. And it’s...not her story to tell.”

But what story is it? Simon thought. They stood side by side, facing the portrait of Queen Natasha. She looked so elegant and poised, like she was made for ruling. Just like Baz.

His eyes slowly shifted over Baz. He was breathing deeply, lips curled in and fists clenched. Simon’s anger faded away at the anguish in Baz’s face. Cautiously, like he was approaching a shark, Simon brushed his finger against the back of Baz’s hand. Baz stopped breathing for a moment. Simon just kept his fingers there for many seconds. But slowly, as Baz’s fist unclenched, and Simon slid their hands together. It was loose, but there. Just a simple reassurance in the only way Simon knew how.

“Mordelia probably told you she died,” he said quietly. “But she doesn’t know how. She’s too young for such a sad story. I...” He inhaled deep, then exhaled slowly. “I was five. My mother and I were coming back from a diplomatic mission out west. She liked to take me on those, to keep an eye on me. We were only a few miles from Watford when we were stopped by highwaymen. Mother told me to hide under the seat while she dealt with them. She did everything right. Gave them her jewellery and fine clothes, just like they asked. But one of them spotted me, and raised his gun to shoot me. He wanted to eliminate a witness I suppose, or maybe just to kill the heir. My mother stepped in front, and, well, you can guess what happened. There was a loud bang, and she was collapsing just as I turned away. I must’ve hit my head, because the next thing I remember, it was hours later and my father and aunt were putting bandages on my cuts. And they told me...my mother was gone.” The smallest tears were falling down Baz’s cheek. He delicately flicked them away with his free hand. “It was a long time ago, though. I’m nineteen, not a silly five year old anymore. It’s fine now.”

It’s okay that you’re not okay, Simon thought, trying to project over to Baz. Whatever you’re feeling is okay. But since he couldn’t say that, so he just held Baz’s hand more firmly. He didn’t loosen or let go even a bit. He wanted Baz to know that he wasn’t alone. That he wanted to be here to help him through all his pain.

Baz squeezed him back.

“She was a good ruler, you know,” he said. “I hope I can be half as good as her when I take the throne.”

I know you will, Simon sighed internally.

Baz still looked so pained. Lips pulled tight, eyes strained. Simon wanted to be there for him, to let him know he wasn’t alone.

He tugged on Baz’s hand to get his attention. Baz looked at him curiously.

“What? What is it?” Simon repeatedly pointed at his chest insistently. Baz lifted one brow. “Are you having a heart attack, Simon? I hope not. That would be quite a messy affair.”

Simon shook his head (whatever a heart attack was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t having one.) He pointed up at Natasha’s picture insistently, then himself, again and again. He slowly mouthed two words. “Me too.”

Baz’s eyes went wide. He felt stupid for not figuring it out immediately . “You mean...your mother is dead too?”

Simon slowly nodded. It wasn’t that long or complicated of a story. His mother had simply died when Simon was born. And even with all his magic, David couldn’t heal her. On the days when his father yelled at him so loud his ears hurt, Simon wondered if David had even tried to save her. Maybe he had let her die so he could use Simon for his imaginary war without interference. Maybe his mother would’ve been there for him like his father wasn’t. Simon could only wonder and dream of who she was and what she looked like.

“I’m sorry,” Baz said quietly. “I of all people know how awful that is.”

Simon shrugged up to his ears. His story wasn’t as tragic as Baz’s, in his opinion. He’d never even met his mother. Most of his knowledge came from the few stories his father had told him. All he remembered himself was that old song. Baz had known and loved his own mother, then watched her die right in front of him. That was far worse in Simon’s view.

But...maybe that wasn’t the point. There wasn’t some “dead mum grief” competition. They both had similar pain, and they could both be there for each other. At least for now, maybe forever if they were lucky.

Simon took a small step toward him, pressing their entire arms together. Baz let himself feel the warmth radiating off Simon wash over him now. And he felt a little less sad, and a little less alone.

Simon tugged again, and jutted his chin at the doorway. He raised one eyebrow. His expression was some form of disapproving and expectant. Baz knew what he meant.

“Yes,” he groaned. “I will go apologize to Mordelia.” Simon nodded firmly. As much as he admired Baz and understood his reasoning, the human been far too harsh with his little sister.

“I can read to you more when I get back. Would that be alright?”

Simon nodded even harder. He’d very much like that. He could make pictures in his mind better when Baz was reading.

“Okay. Sounds good.” Baz chewed at his bottom lip. Every part of his logical brain told him not to do what he wanted. But his heart screamed at him to let himself just feel for once. And he felt so much when he looked at Simon.

Fuck it , he thought. Then he darted forward and kissed Simon’s cheek. A small peck, right on one of those infuriatingly gorgeous moles. Simon gasped very audibly. He turned to Baz, eyes bigger than saucer plates. The blush creeping up his freckled face neatly mirrored Baz’s own.

Baz slowly let go of Simon’s hand, the contact suddenly too much. “I-I uh, I should go, talk to her. But I’ll be back. Pick a book, alright? You can use the ladder to get on the higher shelf...bye.”

Baz speed walked out of the room with his head down. He couldn’t believe he had just done that. And...christ, he wanted to do it again.

Simon watched him walk out. He lightly touched his cheek. It still felt on fire where Baz had kissed him. Fucking kissed him! A hopeful part of him wondered if that kiss was enough to seal the spell. Probably not, but the sensation of it felt far better than magic

He looked at the ladder. Baz said he could use it. That’s alright, he thought wistfully. I think I’ll just fly from now on.

Simon silently hummed and spun around the large room. And he swore his feet didn’t touch the ground.

Baz stood outside Mordelia’s room for some time. He took many deep breaths to staedy his nerves. He knocked firmly three times. “Mordelia? May we talk?”

“Mordelia’s not here,” Mordelia shouted from behind the door. “And if she was, Basilton wouldn’t be allowed in!”

Baz sighed, leaning his shoulder on the thick mahogany. “Well, what if Basilton was very, very, sorry?”

“Basilton is never sorry,” she said weakly. “He’s always mean and rude and just, just awful!”

Baz winced. He wished he could deny that, but it was probably the truth in Mordelia’s eyes. He was always so harsh with her. Maybe it was partially brotherly teasing, but Baz knew deep down it came from much darker things. Mostly his lingering grief over his mother’s death and childish anger over his father’s re-marriage. But he really shouldn’t take that out on Mordelia. Neither were her fault.

“Maybe he is now,” Baz sighed. “Because the way he spoke to you was harsh and unfair, which you don’t deserve that.”

Another silence stretched out. Baz almost left, resigning himself to Mordelia staying deservedly cross with him. But then little feet padded across the floor, and the door slowly opened just a crack.

“Come in.”

Baz did, closing the door softly behind him. Mordelia ran back to her bed, leaning back on the headboard and curling her legs up to her chest. Max sat next to her, protective as ever. Baz carefully sat at the end.

“Are you really sorry?” She asked, voice muffled from behind her knees.

“Yes,” Baz said, kindly but firmly. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that. It was very mean. My mother may be a...touchy subject, but it doesn’t mean I get to be rude to you. So I’m just, very sorry.”

Mordelia peeked out slightly. “You’ve never apologised to me before.”

Baz nodded slowly. “I know. I tend to be too prideful.”

“No kidding.”

The siblings both chuckled. Baz scooted a bit closer. When their giggles died down, Baz and Mordelia just looked at each other. Baz cautiously put a comforting hand on her knee, making her eyes go very wide. The Grimm-Pitches weren’t a physically affectionate family. They weren’t an affectionate family period. But Simon’s physicality, one of the only ways he could communicate his feelings with no voice, seemed to be rubbing off on Baz. He was starting to like it. Mordelia relaxed slowly. Maybe she liked it too.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I shouldn’t have talked to Simon about your Mum without you there. I just wanted an excuse to talk to him about something, and he was already looking at her portrait. But she was your Mum. You should’ve told him first. If you wanted to.”

Baz nodded slowly. “Apology accepted, Mordelia. Simon was okay with it though. And, he actually helped a bit. Made me feel a bit better.” He decided not to get into the details of that particular situation.

Mordelia went on her knees and shuffled forward. A small mocking smirk pulled up at her lips. “You really like Simon, huh?”

Baz sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “I suppose I do. He’s...quite nice.”

“Even though he can’t speak?”

“Having no voice doesn’t make him any less nice, Mordy. And even so, he has his own ways of speaking. They work just as well.”

Mordelia nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I like him too. He’s funny, and interesting, and he makes you nicer.”

Baz barked out a laugh. He had to admit she was right, but it was still funny. “Oh and you like that huh?”

He expected Mordelia to make some snarky comment or eye roll back in typical Grimm family fashion. But her face softened into a truly kind smile. Before he knew it, Mordelia launched herself at Baz, wrapping her arms around his neck. Baz inhaled sharply, frozen in shock. Few people had ever hugged him. Even his mother, the true royal that she was, did it sparingly. The closest he had come to one in ages was Simon on the horse and, well, right now.

“Yeah,” Mordelia said, muffled in Baz’s shirt. “I really, really do. You should...maybe try it more often.”

Two mere days ago, Baz would’ve sneered and pushed her off. All to protect his perfectly crafted persona of a controlled, detached crown prince, the person everyone knew and expected. But lately, he didn’t want to be that man. That man didn’t spend happy times with a beautiful boy. Didn’t laugh at his stupid antics, or happily ride horses with him, or almost sort of kiss him. And that definitely wouldn’t apologise and hug his little sister. Maybe he didn’t want to be himat all anymore. (Well, at least some parts. The sharp humour was a keeper.)

Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her relatively small body, hugging her closer. “Maybe I should.”

Mordelia merely hummed in approval, pressing his face harder into his shoulder. He squeezed her just a bit tighter. And for the first time in long time, he started to feel happy.

Chapter Text

When Simon woke up, the first thing he saw were the clothes set out on the end of his bed. A navy tunic with lighter blue pants. A note was attached to the collar. Simon read it in the rays of the rising sun. The handwriting was loopy, graceful cursive.

“Morning. Had these hemmed. Hope they fit better. Meet me at the stables. -Baz”

Simon grinned, then examined the clothes. The sleeves and pant legs were were woven with string, making them shorter. Baz must’ve had this done this for him, so he didn’t keep having to roll them up. Simon’s pulse raced almost as fast as Ivory’s hooves had yesterday. He grinned so hard his face ached.

The clothes fit Simon perfectly. Just as he did the last button, Penelope the Seagull flew in through the window. (Simon left it open now.) She landed on the bedpost and ruffled her white feathers.

“Hey Si,” she said through the bird’s mouth. “How’s it going? Kissed by your prince yet?”

Simon stuck his hand out and slowly tilted it side to side. Penny tilted her seagull head slightly in confusion.

“What in Poseidon’s name does that mean? Be specific for once, Si.”

Simon groaned. He tapped insistently on his cheek, right over the mole Baz had kissed.

“Oh! He kissed your cheek?” Simon nodded with an incredibly large smile. “That’s great. Though...it doesn’t count for the spell, unfortunately. It’s got to be a kiss on the lips to prove he’s in love with you. Magic is stupidly picky like that.”

Simon sighed heavily. Though he had hoped deep down, he knew it couldn’t be that easy. But still, a cheek kiss was one step towards a “real” kiss. So his enthusiasm wasn’t dampened too much. He kept smiling. Penelope rolled her bird’s eyes fondly.

“What’s on the agenda for today? More horses? More books? Neptune, human stuff is weird.”

He shrugged. Simon genuinely didn’t know what was going to happen. Which, admittedly, was normal, but he was excited rather than filled with confused anger for once. It wasn’t like when he couldn’t understand a spell. It was a surprise. And whatever it was, it’d be fun to do with Baz.

Before he left, Simon patted Penelope’s head and waved goodbye. She waved back with white wing.

“Have fun! Try to trip into his arms a bit more. That seems to be working!”

Simon stuck his tongue out and shut the door to the sound of Penelope’s cackles.

Baz was in the stables, but not with Ivory. He was tying up a different brown horse to a strange contraption. It looked like a giant chair with two wheels on the front and back. It was made of wood, carved with intricate gold lines, like the sunken ships. Was it a ship chair? A land ship chair?

“Good morning, Simon,” he said pleasantly. “Ready to go?”

Simon raised an eyebrow in lieu of “go where?”

“We’re going into town, the one nearby. My Aunt Fiona lives there. She’s honestly my favourite relative. We can visit her, and then stop by the summer festival. It starts today. Would you like that?”

Simon nodded. He had little idea what a festival was, but it sounded pretty great. And if Baz liked this Aunt Fiona, maybe Simon would like her too.

Baz gave a short nod in return. “Marvelous. Let’s go.”

He stepped into the land ship, and Simon copied, sitting in the chair with a thump. Baz couldn’t hide the small chuckle that escaped. He found so much of what Simon did painfully adorable.

“ Allons-y, then,” Baz announced proudly. “Hyah!”

He flicked the reins and sent the horse into a trot. The carriage lurched along, throwing Simon forward for a second. Baz cackled, Simon glared, but they were both smiling.

Simon was simultaneously confused and astonished by the human settlement. Merfolk tended to live in magically shaped coral houses or caves. They sometimes lived close to each, but were never truly organized. This on the other hand definitely was. The paths were winding but defined, beaten down into dirt instead of growing green. The houses were large, wide and looming. They all had two whole floors! However they weren’t brightly coloured unfortunately, instead being dingy browns, greys, and whites. Simon was fine with that though. He still liked these new structures. He liked the human world so damn much.

The carriage (the real name for the land ship, apparently) suddenly stopped. Simon lurched forward again, but caught himself better this time. They were stopped in front of a large house. It was painted almost all black, making the building seem far more intimidating then it should be. Baz hopped out and proudly strolled to Simon’s side, standing in front of the house with a smirk.

“Interesting, I know,” he said smoothly. “My aunt likes to stand out in all manners of her life. Come on, let’s go.”

Baz offered his hand, scratchy palm facing upwards. Simon took it and hopped out onto the cobblestone ground. They let go, but their fingers linger just a bit longer than they should. It was now regular, delightful occurrence between them. Baz hit the big brass knocker three times.

“Fucking hell!” A muffled voice shouted from inside the home “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold onto your knickers.”

The black door violently swung open. Simon jumped slightly and stumbled back. A woman shoved her head out angrily. She had to be Baz’s aunt. She looked too much like him not to be. Same reddish-gold skin, same deep sea grey eyes, same night black hair. Except she had a stark blonde streak in the front, as well as a deep scowl that encompassed her whole face.

“And good day to you too, Aunt Fiona,” Baz said cooly.

Fiona’s face didn’t soften exactly. It simply morphed from a pissed off scowl to a sharp grin. A mischievous sort of expression that Simon thought fit her just as well as the frown.

“Basil,” she replied, somehow both aggravated and affectionate. “Didn’t know you’d be dropping by.”

“I decided to surprise you. We’re on our way into town and wanted to say hello. By the way,” Baz gestred politely to Simon, “Fiona, this is Simon. He’s...from out of town, and he’s staying with us at the castle for awhile. Simon, this is my mother’s sister, Fiona Pitch.”

Simon stuck his hand, like how he’d seen humans do in the past few days. He grinned as brightly as he could. He wanted to make a good impression on Fiona. But she looked at him weirdly, eyebrow raised. She flicked her eyes over to Baz for a second, probably for reassurance that Simon wasn’t loopy (he got that a lot, under the sea and on land), then shrugged and shook his hand. Her skin wasn’t as rough as Baz’s, but her grip was just as strong.

“Well, pleasure to meet you Simon. Come in, both of you. I’ve getting tea ready.”

They strolled into the mansion, Fiona closing the door behind them. It wasn’t all black on the inside, luckily. But it was mostly old dark wood, carved in intimidating patterns. Simon felt very loomed over in this house. Somehow even more so than the castle.

Fiona grandly threw open a set of double doors in at the end of the hall. The room they entered was a bit more open than everything else, with drawn curtains and a white cloth on the old dining room table. Fiona threw herself into one of the chairs, legs spread and arms crossed. She positioned herself like she didn’t have a care in the world. Baz sat properly across from her, and Simon was next to him.

“So,” Fiona said, punctuating the word with leaning forward on the table. “How’s it going Basilton? Kingdom inner workings still boring as shit?”

Baz chuckled and shook his head. “Do you even need to ask?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, arsehole.” She turned her smirking face to Simon. “What do you think, Simon? Is the castle as boring as I remember? You would probably have a less biased perspective than Basil.”

Simon couldn’t answer that properly. Even if he had his voice, he wouldn’t know what to say. He just shrugged and smiled sheepishly. Fiona’s brow furrowed.

“Cat got your tongue, love?”

Simon pointed at his mouth and shook his head. It seemed to be the simplest way to say “I can’t speak.”

Fiona squinted at him. “You can’t talk?”

Simon nodded, trying to hide his nervousness. He didn’t want Fiona to think he was weird. He wanted her to like him, because Baz liked her. He was ingratiating himself to humans. David would be furious. That made Simon smile.

“Ah, alright then.” Fiona leaned even farther forward. “So do you like our fair kingdom?”

A nod.

“Is Basil treating you well?”

A nod, plus a slight involuntary blush.

“Well, Baz said you weren’t from Watford. Think you want to stay here for awhile?”

Simon bit the corner of his lip. His eyes flicked over to Baz, who was looking right back with a small smile. Gorgeous, kind, brave, sarcastically funny Baz, who in just three days had made Simon happier than he’d been in ages.

A solid, eager nod.

“Well I’m glad.” Fiona pointed a long finger at him. “Just don’t eat the seafood, alright? I know it’s a staple of this kingdom, but it’s bloody dreadful.”

Simon stuck his tongue out, face twisted up in disgust. No way he’d eat the sea animals, no matter the taste. Fiona barked out a laugh and slapped a table.

“Finally! Someone else in this town who doesn’t like seafood. See, Baz, I’m not alone!”

Baz rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yes, Fiona, Simon shares your weird taste buds. Rejoice.”

“I bloody well will, arsehole.” Suddenly, a whistling noise came from the kitchen. Fiona perked up. “Oh, tea is ready! Baz, come help me make it.”

Baz stood up, placing a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Be right back. Don’t wander too much. And try not to break anything.”

Simon just smiled and nodded. By the time Baz was leaving the room, he was already up and feeling the curtains.

Fiona strolled up to the stove, where a simple kettle was whistling. She put out the burner, then turned to her nephew with a smug smile. “So,” she said, “Simon’s very cute.”

“Fiona,” he said like an exasperated warning. He didn’t want to have this conversation with her. It would only lead to teasing.

“Oh don’t be like that, Basil. You smile every time you look at him. And you’re still blushing, just like he was.”

Baz instinctively pressed a hand to his cheek. He could feel the heat in it so much it nearly burned his finger tips. He attempted a scowl but it came out as a childish pout.

“Shut up,” Baz muttered.

Fiona waved dismissively. She took out three floral tea cups from the cupboard, along with three tea bricks. “Don’t be embarrassed, love. I don’t blame you. He’s adorable and funny. And he’s definitely more of a real romantic prospect than that saviour you were blathering on about before.”

Baz was slightly taken aback. Right, his mystery saviour with the beautiful voice. That man had consumed his thoughts for two weeks, but he’d barely come to his mind in the past few days. Baz had been too busy with Simon. In both his time and his thoughts.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” he said, voice almost happy. But just as quickly, Baz deflated, reality smashing his brief hope to pieces. “Not that it matters. Father is still determined to get me to marry a princess and produce an heir. No matter my protests. I mean, I’m not the only Pitch! Why can’t you produce an heir?!”

Fiona leaned forward with one hand on the counter, face in a bored deadpan expression. “Because: A) I’m not the crown prince set to inherit the whole bloody kingdom, and B) I’m thirty seven year olds and unmarried, which I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon. So, sorry darling, but Pitch heir responsibility falls solely on you.”

Baz groaned, head slumping forward into his hands. Fiona sighed. “ But, as much as I respect Malcolm and his judgement, considering he fell in love with my wonderful sister, he’s wrong in this regard.” Baz straightened up just slightly, eyebrow lifted in question. “Royal duties shouldn’t be a barrier to happiness, Baz. Your mother certainly believed that. She was the crown princess and married a Grimm anyway.” The way Fiona said Grimm was like it brought bile to her mouth. Baz chuckled and raised his whole head.

“You really think I could convince him?” Baz asked weakly.

“If Natasha was allowed to marry a bloody farmer like him, you should be allowed to marry an incredibly handsome boy who makes you smile this much.”

Baz felt his cheeks heat up even more. He looked at his shuffling feet. “I don’t know about ‘marry’ yet, Fiona. We only met two days ago.”

Fiona barked out a laugh. “True, true. Well, let’s start with ‘wants to snog’ then, huh?”

Baz was sure his entire face was red at this point. Which was quickly confirmed by the way Fiona cackled and held her stomach. Baz muttered insults under his breath and dropped the leafy green bricks in the cups. Fiona picked up her own tea and had Baz carry his own and Simon’s. Because she always refused to do more work than necessary.

As they entered, Simon was closely examining a very delicate glass figurine. He waved at Baz, letting the sculpture slip from his fingers.

“Simon!” Baz shouted. He quickly placed the tea down and dived forward. He just caught the little lion before it hit the hardwood floor.

“Christ, Simon,” he grumbled, “this is delicate. You can’t let it fall.”

Simon frowned apologetically. He still wasn’t entirely used to things falling so quickly when he dropped them. He grabbed Baz’s hand and spelt out, “sorry”. Baz sighed and patted his fingers in return.

“It’s alright. Just try not to drop anymore priceless antiques, please.”

Simon nodded. His fingers stayed on Baz’s palm. Baz didn’t pull away. The space between them felt charged. Their bodies were inches apart. Both were so close to closing that gap.

Of course Fiona had to ruin the moment.

“Ahem,” she said. The boys jolted apart, the charged air suddenly becoming full on electric and shocking them. She smirked, her little cup held delicately in her hand. “Tea’s going to get cold if you two stand there all day.”

The blushing men took their seats across from her. She winked at Baz from over her tea. Baz glared over his. But, it was good to know he had at least one adult family member on his side. Maybe his feelings for Simon didn’t have to be so doomed after all.

Once the tea was done and goodbyes were said, Simon and Baz were off again. They had to cross a bridge to get into the main downtown. Simon looked over the edge of the carriage. The water lapped the shore far below them. Not unusual of course, but the flash of purple was.

His eyes bugged out. What in Neptune’s name is she doing here?! She could be spotted! he thought. Penelope waved at him from the water, then made a kissy face and lifted her arms in question. Simon shook his head. Penny sighed, putting her hands on her hips with utter disappointment. He rolled his eyes and motioned for her to go.

“Simon, what on earth are you looking at?” Baz asked.

Simon snapped back into his seat. A great big innocent smile was plastered across his face. He shook his head once again, though much more cheerily. Baz eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t ask anymore questions. Simon peeked over the edge again and thankfully did not see a purple tailed mermaid well meaningly stalking him.

While the outside of town were winding dirt roads, these ones were more rigid. Made of square cut stone and built in straight lines. The houses were tall instead of wide, looming in a different way. For some reason, garlands of multicoloured flowers were strung between the homes, creating a floral canopy over them. Simon looked at that them curiously.

“I told you Simon,” Baz said, “it’s the summer festival. To celebrate the coming of warmer months. Not that it ever gets very cold here.”

Simon merely nodded in acknowledgment of his words, but he wasn’t really listening. He was too focused on the decorations. They criss crossed the sky above them in wonderful patterns. Simon adored all the colours. They reminded him somewhat of the coral back home, but the flowers seemed far less likely to cut up his fingers if he touched them.

The carriage emerged out of the passageway of houses into an open courtyard. Simon gasped. It was gorgeous. The space was circular in shape, and the ground stones were bright white instead of grey. Many more garlands reached out from the buildings towards a strange structure in the centre. It spurted out water in a little arch, falling into a basin then dripping into a smaller one.

Baz stopped the carriage near the edge of the one of the buildings. A red haired man strolled up to them with his hand in his pocket.

“Baz!” he said happily. “Here for the festival, mate?”

“No, just to see your stupid mug,” Baz replied jokingly, hopping out of the carriage in a graceful leap.

“Who’s this bloke? You picking up stragglers for change now?”

“No, you arse. Simon, get out here.” Simon scrambled out of the carriage and stood next to Baz. “Simon, this is Niall, my very annoying friend. Niall, this is Simon. He’s staying at the castle with us for awhile.”

“Huh. Nice to meet you, Simon.” Niall offered his hand, which Simon shook firmly. Apparently a little too firmly, because Niall winced and shook his hand out. His red brow pinched together at Simon. “Can you not speak or something, mate?”

Simon’s face sank. He shook his head. Twice in one day he’s had to silently explain his lack of voice. It wasn’t fun, to always have to separate himself from the people he was trying to become a part of. But then a long rough index finger subtly wrapped around his. He didn’t even need to look at Baz to know. And he felt better.

“Alright,” Niall said, still sounding a bit confused. “What are you doing here, Baz? You hate the festival.”

Baz scoffed. “ I do not. What are you doing here? I thought you and Dev were sailing today.”

“We were going to, but then he got a chance to go to the festival wuth blonde girl so I’ve been ditched.”

“Good lord, I thought they’d broken up again.”

“You’d think! But Dev is bloody starstruck. He actually...”

Their conservation trailed away for Simon. He wasn’t interested in their friend and some blonde girl. He was more interested in the humans around him and the things they did. It was all he’d wanted underwater, to see them up close. Some stood behind strange wooden constructions, yelling and waving different things. Beautiful cloths, metal jars, more flowers. Others stood in front, examining the articles with great care. Little children laughed and played around the water structure. Simon wondered if he could go say hell-

“Simon!”

Simon was suddenly yanked back by a strong hand. A pair of horses pounded pass just as he stumbled out of the way. A man in a carriage yelled insults at Simon and shook his fist. He was spun around to see an extremely terrified Baz, eyes wide and arms shaking. Both men were breathing harshly.

“Dear Lord, Simon,” he panted out. “You could’ve been killed! You have to be more careful”

Simon nodded vigorously. He knew Baz was right. He was quite oblivious, but that never used to be a problem underwater. The ocean was mostly boring with few immediate dangers, save for his own magic blowing up in his face. Apparently, the human world was far more fast paced, and he was still learning.

Strangely, Baz wasn’t angry. Not even slightly annoyed, just scared. David would’ve been screaming at Simon by now. Two screw ups in one day? Unacceptable. But Baz...Baz was just worried if he was okay. Simon’s heart started beating twofold.

Baz let out a long breath. The tension on his face started to fall away. His grip on Simon’s shoulders slowly loosened, trailing down his arms. Like he was making sure Simon was real and alive. “Just, don’t do that again, okay?”

Simon nodded again. He grasped Baz’s hand firmly, reassuring Baz that he understood and was okay. He took a small step forward and lifted his head. The prince’s expression morphed from relief to just...looking at him. Simply let his swirling grey eyes roam over him. Simon looked back, eyes instinctively fixating on Baz’s lips. His stomach did funny things, only increased when Baz opened his perfect mouth. He wanted to hear what he had to say so badly.

But then Niall popped up behind Baz, of course. The boy’s hands and eyes snapped apart. People need to stop interrupting us, or I’m never going to get that kiss, Simon grumbled internally.

“Wow,” Niall said, “that was close, mate. Gotta be careful with those reckless carriages.”

Simon nodded, looking at the ground and shuffling his feet in embarrassment. Baz briefly brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. He looked up. Baz was smiling, only slightly. Just enough for Simon to see while maintaining his cool demeanor in public.

“Come along, Simon,” he said proudly. “We have a festival to see.”

Truthfully, It had been ages since Baz had gone to a summer festival. The last time he went...well, the last time he went, his mother was still alive. He hadn’t found the motivation or strength to go since. But it was one of Watford’s crowning events, and he knew Simon would enjoy it.

And the other man was certainly enthralled, even after nearly being run over. Simon bounced from vendor stall to vendor stall. At one, he picked up a little silver statue of a fish, examining it with inquisitive blue eyes. But then he started walking away, much to the poor craftswoman’s confusion.

“Simon!” He called, chasing after then grabbing the boy by his collar. “Simon, you forgot to pay!”

Simon looked at him like he didn’t understand the the statement. Where on earth does he come from? Baz thought. He didn’t think about that too much though. Instead, he pulled out his coin bag and gave a single gold piece to the older woman.

“We’ll take the statue, please. Is this enough?”

The women nodded nervously. “Y-Yes, your highness.”

“Thank you. Enjoy the festival.”

“You as well, your highness.”

They walked off back into the bustling crowd. Simon bumped Baz’s shoulder. Baz turned to see his toothy grin. Baz nodded in acknowledgement, smiling back. “You’re welcome, Simon.”

The two of them continued strolling through the square. The odd person came up to pay their respects to Baz, but they mostly left him alone. Watford subjects understood the royal family’s need for some privacy. Simon kept bounding between the stands. He investigated everything with curious eyes and grabby fingers. But he stopped in front of the bakery stand. Of course, Baz thought.

“Good morrow, Ebb,” Baz said kindly.

The blonde woman perked up as much as she could. Her morose nature made that difficult. “Basilton, good morrow and happy festival. How is your father?”

“As pleasant as he’ll allow himself to be. How’s the day been?”

“Marvelous. People love baked treats during the festival. But...what are you doing here? You haven’t attended since...”

Baz’s jaw shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, I know. I’m here to show my friend around. Simon, this is Ebb, Fiona’s old friend. She owns the bakery. Ebb, this is Simon.”

Simon waved eagerly. He looked greedily over Ebb’s assorted pastries, licking his lips. His sour cherry scone love seemed to extend to other baked goods.

Ebb grinned at the young man. “Good morrow, Simon. Do you like pastries?”

Simon nodded very, very hard, rattling his bronze curls. Ebb, ever the kind soul, offered a small chocolate croissant. “Here you go, love. It’s on me. Happy festival.”

He carefully took the treat, then tugged on Ebb’s hand. The woman complied, opening her palm. Simon traced a series of letters into her skin. Ebb’s face slowly broke into a smile. Once Simon was done, she turned her hand over and patted Simon’s fingers.

“You’re very welcome dear. You and Basil have a wonderful time. Give my regards to your family, Baz.”

“Will do, Ebb.”

They waved goodbye. Baz was always astounded by Ebb, who’d lost so much, yet still treated everyone with such kindness. Suddenly, a piece of crumbly pastry was shoved in Baz’s face. He stumbled back slightly in shock, but still took the food.

“Thank you,” he said kindly to Simon.

Eventually, they reached the other end of the square, where people were dancing in a circle around musicians. The fiddlers played a happy beat as the subjects spun around and laughed. Simon’s eyes went wide.

“Simon-” Baz started, but it was already too late. Simon dashed off. Baz saw no point in stopping him. He wasn’t in danger, save for maybe embarrassing himself. But he didn’t seem to have much shame.

Simon let himself get pulled into the fray of tapping feet and waving arms. After a few stumbling steps, he shakily picked up the rhythm. He spun with the ring of people and clapped with his hands raised. Baz watched in awe. Watched how Simon laughed with no voice, throwing himself headfirst into something new with so much reckless enthusiasm.

The song changed, and the group broke off into pairs. Simon immediately ran towards Baz and tugged on his sleeve. Baz shook his head vigorously.

“Oh no, absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I do not dance. Not willingly at least.”

Simon jutted out his bottom lip impossibly far. He tugged on Baz’s sleeve again more insistently. Baz would usually say no. But he was trying to be nicer, he’d accepted that. And he didn’t want to go backwards.

Baz let out a deep sigh. “Fine.”

Simon jumped up and down like the child he was and dragged him into the square. Though he had pulled Baz out here, it was obvious he had no clue what to do, just standing there holding Baz’s hand in his. Baz rolled his eyes and held their joint hands out, his other wrapping around Simon’s back like a steel band. Simon’s gaze went wide, red spreading up his face. He lifted his hand, before dropping it lamely by his side.

“Put it on my shoulder,” Baz whispered, and Simon did.

Baz guided them slowly around the cobblestone steps. Like just earlier, it only took a few tries before Simon mostly got the hang of it, happily swanning his way about the square with him. The song picked up and Baz went faster. Their feet flew across the stones like they were walking on air. Feeling dangerously confident, Baz let go of the other boy’s waist and used his hand to spin him out. Though briefly shocked, Simon went along with it. He whirled around like a child’s top, then leaned back while still holding Baz’s hand. When Baz tugged, he spun himself in.

As Simon stumbled back into Baz’s embrace, the two locked stares for a long moment. Time seemingly stretched out, warping and extending around Simon’s face. Baz let his gaze roaming over Simon’s gorgeously freckled features and kind blue eyes. Every place Simon touched Baz was warm. Warmer than he’d been in ages. He let himself smile.

Maybe Baz wasn’t simply being nicer like he thought, but rather becoming closer to who he once was. Back when he used to attend summer festivals. No longer as guarded, no longer as numb, but...maybe even happy. And Simon was gladly to blame.

The song swelled. People around them lifted their partners. Baz smirked, while Simon’s brow furrowed. Suddenly, Simon was hoister up into the air, Baz’s hands clasping his hips. Simon gasped, then laughed silently with his head thrown back. Baz tried to imagine what beautiful sound went with that expression. Then he just focused on Simon’s joyful face. No sound was really needed. His wondrous expression was enough.

As the sun began to set, the men set off in their carriage again, but not back to the castle. Baz took them in the opposite direction, telling Simon it was a surprise. Surprises seemed to turn out well today. They went past the town on a dirt path. It got more and more secluded, trees reaching over them in a canopy of green and brown. The further they went, the lower the sun set, turning the sky from fiery orange to raven black with a spackle of shining lights.

Baz stopped the carriage in a little grove. He stepped out gracefully and motioned for Simon to follow. Simon scurried after. The path became thinner and thinner. Simon grabbed Baz’s sleeve to keep up. He was pleasantly surprised when Baz held his hand properly. They went deeper and deeper, until they reached a wall of vines. Baz brushed them away. And Simon’s breath hitched.

David always said that below water was the only place where things could be beautiful. That everything above was disgusting. But this, this was mesmerising. It was a smaller prettier ocean. Strange plants grew around the water, all reaching into the liquid. The whole coast was surrounded with large vine covered tree, branches reaching over the lake like a long green tunnel. They sort of isolated the area from everything else. Like it was too incredible for the rest of the world.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Baz said quietly, as if he’d disturb the area by being too loud. “I come here to think sometimes. Thought you might like it.”

Simon slowly nodded. Every time Baz showed him something new about the human world, it just got more and more amazing. He never wanted to leave it, or Baz.

Baz walked forward, and Simon followed. There was a small row boat pulled up on the shore. Baz motioned for Simon to get in, which he did. Baz pushed the wooden dinghy into the lagoon then hopped in with characteristic poise.

They rowed out deeper into the water, further from civilization, from anyone else but them. Simon looked around at everything he could, absorbing the colours and strange shapes around them. But his eyes always went back to Baz. Who was looking back.

“So did you enjoy yourself today?” Baz asked.

Simon nodded eagerly. He’d had so much fun today. Even the more unpleasant parts had not tarnished the shine of it. Baz smiled back.

“Glad to hear it.” Baz’s eyes went wide. “I mean, well, glad to know . Not hear, per se, of course. I-”

Simon scooted forward in his seat and put a hand on Baz’s knee, patting it softly. “I know,” he said silently. Baz sighed, pointedly looking over his shoulder, probably in an attempt to hide the embarrassed flush Simon could already see. Simon looked away too. Awkward silence hung in the air. He distracted himself by examining the trees, the plants, the water, the hand-

His eyes widened. There was a hand reaching up from the waves. With dark skin and large purple coral ring.

Penny, he thought nervously, what in Neptune’s name are you doing?

Her hand touched the ground. Her violet energy pulsed through the green surface, flowing out towards the flora. Slowly, the plants began to glow, just enough to softly illuminate the lagoon in beautiful coloured light. Penny’s hand gave a thumbs up before sinking back into the water.

“Oh my god,” Baz exclaimed. “What the hell is this?” Simon shrugged, smiling as innocently as he could. Baz shook his head in disbelief. “Must be some kind of fungus,” he muttered Simon simply nodded.

Baz kept rowing. The glow was nice though. It bathed the already gorgeous lake in green, purple, red, yellow, every colour he could think of. Baz looked at it with lips slightly parted and grey eyes filled with awe. Simon liked the way the multi-coloured light accented Baz’s happy face. Every shade highlighted a sharp feature in a different but equally beautiful way. He’d have to thank Penelope later for her help.

Slowly, Baz brought the boat to a stop. They were in the centre of many diverging rivers. Penny’s glow had followed them, creating a circle of faint light around them.

“Simon, look up,” Baz said softly.

Immediately, Simon looked up, and he smiled. Hundreds of stars glittered above them. Simon hadn’t seen the sky this clear since he was back in the ocean. Nothing obscured by smoke from human chimneys or light from too many candles. He’d almost forgotten how stunning a clear night sky was. It was one of the few things Simon liked about the sea.

“This is why I like to come here,” Baz sighed. “It’s the only place on land where the sky is completely clear. Amazing, is it not? Especially with this fungus apparently deciding to illuminate us”

Simon nodded. Baz leaned on the side of the boat, kneeling with arms folded over each other, head tilted up towards the sky. Simon copied him. The boat rocked a little and tilted forward, but stayed afloat. Simon didn’t care. He was too busy looking between the stars and Baz.

“I’m glad you had fun at the festival today,” Baz said quietly. “I did too. I...haven’t gone in quite awhile. Not since my mother’s passing.”

Simon didn’t hesitate before placing his hand over Baz’s. He squeezed once. Baz squeezed back.

“It’s alright, Simon, I’m not sad. In fact, I’m quite happy.” He took a small nervous breath. “Thank you for that.”

He didn’t elaborate at all, but Simon’s stomach still did backflips all the same. He slowly turned to look at Baz. It was the softest Simon had ever seen on him. The corners of his lips upturned and his shoulders completely relaxed. No tension, no sarcasm, just simple contentment. All accented by the floral glow and sparkling starlight.

Simon stared with his mouth hanging slightly open. He had explored many parts of the ocean, in attempt to find something that fascinated him. He’d passed by schools of fish of every colour without a care and ignored wonderous coral structures. But he couldn’t help but lose himself in Baz’s beautiful eyes, currently filled with simple happiness. And he was pretty sure he could for a long, long time.

Baz seemed to sense Simon’s gaze. He slowly turned his head so they were face to face. Simon didn’t look away, and neither did Baz. They didn’t shy away or run off this time. No one was there to interrupt them either. Baz’s captivating eyes flicked down to Simon’s lips for a long second. Mother of Neptune, he wants to kiss me, Simon thought with anticipatory excitement.

They both unconsciously moved closer, hands still touching. The air turned charged again. It felt more powerful than magic. Baz tilted his head slightly, and Simon tilted the other way. Both their eyes slid shut. Simon could feel Baz’s hot breath on his lips. It was almost happening. One kiss, and he’d never have to leave. He could stay on land, among these wonders he loved. One kiss, and he’d never be under Davy’s thumb again. One kiss, and he could truly be with Baz. One kiss. That’s all he wanted. At least for now.

Then the boat tipped over.

“Shit!” Baz shouted as they tumbled into the shallow water. Simon shouted too, though it was inaudible. Both men were immediately soaked. Simon was flat on his stomach, face floating just above the surface. He huffed, blowing bubbles in the lake. Son of tiger shark, he grumbled in his thoughts, so close.

“Well,” Baz sighed, “that’s what we get for leaning on a tiny dinghy.” He stood up and offered his hand to Simon. “Come along. We should get back to the palace and change before we catch a cold.

Simon took his hand. When upright, their touch did not linger like before. Baz looked away with slightly red cheeks. There wasn’t contentment on his face anymore. Just calm but obvious embarrassment. The moment was gone, again. Simon’s chance had been ruined, again...

Two days. He only had two days after this. He only hoped another moment happened before then.

“Simon? Simon?! Where in Poseidon’s name are you, boy?”

David shouted into the ocean over and over, but no response came from his son. Or anyone else, for that matter. Where could that boy be? He wouldn’t have swam that far. David may have been harsh before, but it was only for Simon’s own sake. He couldn’t harbour those trinkets, or any affection for the humans. He needed to be sharp for when the great day came.

“Simon, I’m not playing around! Get out here!”

He waited, and still no response. David entered his and Simon’s cave to find it in disarray. The barnacles hadn’t been cleaned off in days, and none of the coral structures had been magically maintained. They grew misshapen and dirty without daily care. These were both Simon’s chores. Why hadn’t he done them?

The merman went deeper into his home, into the spellroom. It was a disaster zone. Potion ingredients and tablets were strewn about like they’d been hit by a storm. But one sat precariously balanced on the large stone cauldron. David cautiously picked it up. His eyes went furiously wide.

He knew this spell. It was a very powerful enchantment, far too complicated for Simon. But...not for that Penelope girl.

It hit him like rocks falling from a crumbling cliff. David knew what had happened. Simon was in the world above now, wandering around with those filthy land walkers. And if this was the spell he’d chosen to use, he was in love with one of them too.

David’s rage flared. Everything he’d worked for was going to fall apart. All because his stupid lovesick son had run away to be with his precious humans. David needed to find him before the change became permanent. If the transformation enchantment timed out, Simon would have to return to the sea. He’d have no choice.

Then Simon would help him create his new kingdom. Whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Text

Simon had been staring at the same page for almost ten minutes. He wasn’t even really looking at it, to be truthful. The multiple colours had swirled together in Simon’s anxious, racing mind. He kept going over yesterday’s events again and again. He’d had so much fun, so many wonderful memories, and so many moments. Moments where the air between him and Baz was electric, where they were so close together, only a breath away from finally kissing.

But they never closed that gap.

So of course Baz was stuck in a kingdom council meeting all day, leaving Simon alone to his own devices and further dampening what little chance he had to kiss him. He’d been holed up in the library with the picture books since he woke up. But even they, with all their pretty colours, couldn’t erase all his worry.

“Hey, Si.”

Simon jolted upright at the sound of Penny’s voice. She was next to him on the sofa armrest, as a seagull of course. Simon sighed and weakly waved.

“Sorry it didn’t happen yesterday,” she said. “I know you wanted it to.”

Simon shrugged slightly. Yes, he’d wanted it to happen, and it was disappointing that it hadn’t. But he still hoped for another chance.

“Si, maybe it’s time to...cut your losses.”

He raised an eyebrow at the seagull. Even in bird form, Simon could tell that Penelope was nervous. She ruffled her white wings, like she was adjusting her posture.

“I mean, Si, kissing Baz isn’t the only way to get away from Davy. I know you like him and your human stuff, but we could just...swim away. We can leave now and I’ll take you to some far off island, then let the spell time out tomorrow and we’ll just go as far as possible. Davy will never find us, I’ll make sure of it. Your prince isn’t the only method to escape.”

Simon inhaled sharply. Was that all Penelope really thought he wanted? Of course he wished to get away from David, but it was about so much more than that now. He loved land and the things on it. Like horseback riding, painted pictures, dancing, and sour cherry scones. All of these made him happier than the ocean ever had. He didn’t want to just meander underwater and fail at magic for the rest of his life. He wanted to stay here, so he could help Baz rule Watford someday and make baked treats like Ebb. And Baz wasn’t just a means of freedom. Simon truly cared for him. So much so that he didn’t want to live without him ever again.

He understood Penny’s concerns, but he couldn’t give up and go back to the sea. It wasn’t just about escaping David anymore. It was that he belonged in this world far more than the one underwater.

Simon shook his head vigorously, his curls flopping back and forth. It was the most effective non-verbal way to say, “absolutely not.”

“You have got to be kidding, Si,” she groaned. “You’re being unreasonable. If Baz doesn’t kiss you, which it’s looking like he won’t, then what? Just go back to David? I don’t want to see you so heartbroken that you’ll just slink back to him and let yourself be miserable forever. If we go now and just wait for the transformation to time out, you’ll still be free. You don’t need land or your prince.”

But I want both, Simon shouted in his mind, I want to stay here with Baz more than anything. He shook his head again. Penny groaned even louder.

“Fine! Be like that. Chase after your stupid prince for another two bloody days! But it’ll be without my help, I promise you that,” she shouted as she flew to the open window. “And if you end up right back under Davy’s thumb, it’ll be your own fucking fault!”

Simon huffed and crossed his arms, sticking his tongue out at the seagull. She rolled her eyes and flew away. He curled in on himself, snuggling into the purple cushions with the book balanced on his knees. He knew he was right. Penny was being too unreasonable.

Simon kept looking at his pictures. It took him a few moments to realise he was crying, tiny salt water drops hitting the page. Simon couldn’t tell why he was crying. Was it over fighting with Penny, his best friend who maybe never wanted to speak to him again? Was it over possibly leaving the land, where he felt truly content for the first time in his life? Or leaving Baz, who was a good part of the reason he was content? Worst of all, it could be over the thought of returning to his father. To living under David’s control forever. The thought of that was beyond chilling.

Maybe Penny’s right , he thought. Maybe he should just run now, before being heartbroken and possibly going back to David. But...that wasn’t a given. Part of him thought he still had a chance. And he refused to give up hope until then.

Baz was so unbelievably bored. And that wasn’t easy to do. As Mordealia constantly reminded him, he was a nerd, who played the violin and read philosophy books for fun. But even he had trouble staying awake during some of these policy meetings. Especially when they were over bloody farmland division disputes.

“I say we move the west border of the Geary land five meters west,” a lord said.

“Absolutely not,” another replied. “Two is the most we should move it. Do not short my subjects because you want more corn, sir.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Kill me now , Baz thought. The two men entered into the most mind numbingly polite argument in history. Malcolm didn’t interject. He preferred to let local lords try to settle things on their own before he said anything. Baz sat next to him, tracing a finger over the smooth wood of the war room table. He let his mind wander away to more happy times. Like yesterday.

Yesterday was a wistful word in his head now. Yesterday, when he’d spent all day with Simon. Baz remembered every time Simon smiled, or looked at something with awe, or laughed soundlessly. It was all still clear in his mind. Including every almost kiss. He’d been so close so many times, but things and people kept getting in the way. Almost like fate itself was working against him. That wasn’t surprising, actually. Life always seemed to fuck him over somehow.

He so desperately wanted to be back in the lagoon now, just before the stupid boat tipped over. When Simon’s gorgeous face, illuminated by fungus glow and starlight, was just an inch apart from his. If Baz could change history, he would’ve closed that gap sooner, before they tipped over and his own embarrassment over the disastrous failure became too overwhelming. No hesitation, just immediately press his lips against Simon’s and finally have his first kiss with the amazing boy. He wondered how it’d really feel. He tried to imagine the sensations. Soft, warm, electric-

“Basilton!”

Baz was wrenched out of his romantic daydream. Malcolm glared at him from across the long table, fingers tapping in an angry rhythm.

“Are you listening, Basil?” he asked gravely.

“Yes, father,” Baz replied.

“Then do you have an opinion on the Geary-Carraway land dispute?”

Baz sighed. He looked at the map spread out on the mahogany table.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “The disputed territory is a mere seven meters that both claim historic ownership of. But neither side would suffer greatly to lose it. In interest of fairness, we turn that area in a neutral territory. No one would own it, and it’d create a buffer between the feuding farmers. Both families would be compensated equally of course. Does that sound like a reasonable proposal?’

Baz leveled a cold look at both lords and his father. They all looked slightly shocked. That made the young man pleased. He may only be nineteen, but he was his mother’s son, and he’d been learning to rule since birth.

“That...seems fair,” the first lord said.

“Agreed,” the other added in.

“Good,” Malcolm said. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now let’s move on to-”

Suddenly, a servant walked in from a side door and up to the king. He whispered something in Malcolm’s ear. The king’s expression did not change, but Baz was unsurprised. His father had the unnatural ability to show nothing on his face. It was a skill Baz had worked on acquiring for years.

Malcolm nodded. “Understood. Gentlemen, I’m afraid we’ll be cutting this meeting short today. We’ll resume this next week. Farewell, your lordships.”

“Farewell, your majesty,” all the lords said in unison. (Baz always found that creepy.)

They all got up to leave, and Baz was about to follow them. He was happy to be free of this torture to go find Simon. There was still the afternoon to enjoy with him.

“Basilton,” Malcolm said as he reached the door. “You are not excused. Come with me.”

Baz suppressed the childish groan begging to come out of his mouth. “Of course, father.”

He followed his father out of the war room and down the hall to his study. It used to be his mother’s, but Malcolm had occupied it since her death. Though it was still the same as Baz had always remembered it. Large, decorated with dark wood furniture, walls lined with bookshelves. When he was king, he would keep it the same too.

But today there was one difference. A strange man was waiting for them when Malcolm opened the door. He was tall and broad shouldered, pale blond hair secured back with pomade. He wore a very official looking military uniform.

“King Wellbelove,” Malcolm said fondly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. How was your journey?”

“Very good, very good,” Wellbelove replied. “Thank you for inviting us to your fair kingdom.”

“It is my pleasure. Now, may I present my eldest son and crown prince of Watford, Basilton Grimm-Pitch.” Malcolm motioned for Baz to step forward, which he complied.

“Your majesty,” Baz said, bowing politely

Wellbelove nodded in return. Kings never bowed. “Hello, Prince Basilton. I’ve heard much about you from your father.”

“I hope he has spoken well of me then.”

“Certainly. Now, may I present my only child, Princess Agatha Wellbelove.” He motioned for someone at his side, just like how Malcolm had motioned for Baz.

Baz noticed a young woman sitting on one of the couches against the bookshelf. She was objectively beautiful, with a fine boned symmetrical face and piercing brown eyes. Her hair was long and corn yellow, part of it tied up in a intricate braid to better hold up her small tiara. The gown she wore was a simple design but made of fine pink silk and inlaid with gold patterns. Just like Baz, she showed no feeling on her face. A true royal.

Malcolm nodded towards the princess. “Good morrow, your majesty, I trust your journey was pleasant as well.”

“It was,” Agatha replied simply. She leveled her calm expression on Baz, brown eyes scanning over him like he did to her.

“Basilton, where are your manners?” Malcolm said, a slight edge to his mostly neutral voice. “Greet Princess Agatha properly.”

Baz nodded stiffly. Agatha held out her hand. He bowed with due respect and kissed the back of it. He had no idea why the Wellbeloves were here, but he didn’t like it.

“Now, I believe you and I still have some matters to discuss in person, Wellbelove,” Malcolm said with the closest he could get to enthusiasm.

“We certainly do,” Wellbelove replied.

“Excellent. Basil, why don’t you show the princess around the castle? You can give her a similar tour as our lodger.”

Baz gritted his teeth. He heard an implication in his father’s words. He couldn’t be sure, unfortunately, as Malcolm always spoke in implications and subtle disapprovement. Baz nodded stiffly again.

“Of course, father.”

Ever the good prince, Baz offered his arm to the princess. She delicately took it. Her light touch certainly implied she liked this as much as Baz did.

“This is the white chapel,” Baz said cooly. “It’s the oldest part of the castle and oldest building in Watford. The first king was crowned here centuries ago.”

“Interesting,” Agatha said, for the fifth time. Baz was pretty sure she found none of this interesting.

“That’s all the important parts of the castle. Shall we take a rest here?”

“Very well.”

Agatha delicately sat on one of the long benches. Baz sat next to her at a respectful distance. He wished he didn’t have to do this. He wanted to find Simon and go somewhere hidden, where they could kiss the boy without any scrutinizing eyes. Instead, he was stuck here, with a princess who seemed even less keen on their situation than he was.

“Let us dispense with the facade, Prince Basilton,” Agatha said with no prompting. “Both of us know why I’m here, and why our fathers wish to meet.”

Baz shifted uncomfortably. Of course he knew why. He just despised acknowledging it. “Very well. Our families Probably wish us to wed, for many political and diplomatic reasons that we are not privy to.”

“Well, I assume it’s because my kingdom lies only just north of your’s and Watford has booming fishing industry. Our union would expand your territory and bring new capital for my kingdom’s somewhat struggling economy. My parents have been looking for viable marriage for me that would help us for years.”

Baz was impressed with her intricate knowledge of kingdom affairs. He scolded himself for assuming a beautiful blonde princess would be ignorant of her people’s issues. “I see. That logic is sound. My father has been trying to arrange a marriage for me as well, for the purposes of an heir.”

“My sympathies. It’s dreadful business, isn’t it?”

“Very dreadful.”

They both quietly chuckled, but quickly fell back into silence. Agatha slowly tapped the wooden bench, chewing on her lip. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but firm.

“Do not take insult to this, Prince Basilton,” she said, “but I do not wish to marry you. I don’t like being sold off as commodity to the highest better. I wish to marry whom I love, for it to be my own choice rather than my father’s. I despise being the prize at the end of a business transaction.”

Baz nodded slowly. “Don’t worry, your highness, I do not wish to marry you either, for the same reason. As well as my own personal preferences in a romantic partner.”

“Oh? Am I undesirable?” She didn’t sound hurt, just simply teasing. Baz let out a scoffing chuckle.

“Absolutely not. You’re quite beautiful. But, truth be told, I simply prefer suitors of a more...masculine nature.”

Baz had never announced his preferences to anyone but Fiona and Malcolm. One had accepted him, the other dismissed. He knew what to do for both reactions, so he wasn’t worried over what the princess’ would be.

But luckily, Agatha’s lip merely quirked up in amusement. “I see. Yet your father is still trying to find you a wife?”

“Unfortunately,” Baz grumbled. “He still believes my feelings are irrelevant in regards to kingdom matters. Including the continuation of the royal bloodline.”

“There are other ways to have an heir.”

“That’s what I told him!” Baz said more loudly than he intended. He quickly retreated back into his mask.

Agatha finally turned to look at him. She didn’t look emotionless anymore, but rather sympathetic. Those sharp brown eyes were round and open, her firm mouth now soft.

“I’m sorry he’s putting you through this,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to choose between your heart and your kingdom.”

Baz let his mask slip too, his crossed arms falling and face softening. “Neither should you.”

She nodded, and he nodded back. They turned forward to look at the beautiful stained glass. Both knew they still had time to waste before their fathers were done speaking. Baz wished he could just leave to find Simon, but that would be unfair to Agatha, and he didn’t want Simon to get the wrong idea.

“That lodger your father mentioned,” Agatha said slowly. “Are they of a...masculine nature?”

Baz flicked his eyes over to her. She was smiling slightly with one brow raise. He chuckled. “No need to play coy, your highness. I know what you’re implying.”

“Please, Prince Basilton, call me Agatha. No one would call me your highness if I could bloody well help it.”

Baz smiled back. “Very well, Agatha. But just so you know, only my family calls me Basilton. My friends call me Baz.”

“So may I call you Baz?”

Baz smiled a little larger. “You may.”

Agatha smiled back, angling her body towards him. “Alright, Baz. Now, who is this mysterious lodger? I’m dying to know any wonderful details. Nothing interesting ever happens in my castle.”

Baz turned towards her as well. He felt a bit better, a bit more optimistic that he could be with who he please. “Well, first of all, his name is Simon.”

Some time later, Baz and Agatha went back to their fathers. The Wellbeloves said their farewells and were escorted to their guest rooms. A grand dinner would be had later in honour of their presence, so they had to rest first. Which left Baz alone with Malcolm.

“So,” Malcolm said as he sat in his chair, “what do you think of the Princess, Basil?”

Baz stood politely at the other side of the desk, hands locked behind his back. “She’s nice, and intelligent.”

“And quite beautiful, no?”

“I suppose so.” He took a breath to calm himself. “But, father, you know I cannot feel that way about Agatha. Or about any woman period.”

Malcolm let out a deep sigh. His head fell forward, white hair slumping with him. “Basilton, we’ve been over this. I know you have your desires, but you are also the future king. And a king will need a blood heir. The Pitch royal family has been ruling Watford for centuries. I won’t allow the line to end with you because of your childish notions of love.”

Baz’s lips twitched down in contempt. He hated when his father was like this. So arrogant, so presumptuous. He wasn’t even a Pitch himself, yet he spoke like he was the saviour of the bloodline.

“If I may be frank,” Baz said between gritted teeth. “Your constant dismissal of who I am is quite aggravating. I am more than just a prince and heir to a kingdom. I’m a person, with my own thoughts and wishes. Just because I like other men-”

“Men like Simon.”

Baz’s heart stopped. His father leveled a cool look at him. He meticulously spun a quill between his fingers, like what he’d just said hadn’t make his son’s blood run cold.

“I’m not stupid, Basil,” he said flatly. “I’ve seen the way you look at Simon. And I’m almost insulted that you thought you were hiding it from me.”

“Father, I-”

“Simon’s not viable suitor, son. And not just because he’s a man. He’s a commoner of unknown origins with no voice. How could he be a king?” Malcolm stood up to better loom over Baz. “I want you to forget this silly infatuation, Basil. Royal duty takes precedence over all, and part of that royal duty will be marrying Princess Agatha. Your union will bring advantages to both our kingdoms and an heir to the Pitch name. That matters far more than your fleeting affections for some commoner.”

Baz planted his hands on the desk, scowling at the other man. “ Father- ”

“That’s all we have to discuss, Basilton. You may leave.”

Baz’s nails dug into the hardwood. He wanted to scream at his father. Yell that he was a stupid prick who cared little for Baz and maybe never had. But that wouldn’t do any good. Malcolm never broke out of his calm mask. Baz could shout until he was red in the face and his father still wouldn’t budge.

So he straightened himself out instead, hands once again firmly clasped behind his back. “Goodbye, father.”

“Goodbye, Basil.”

Baz turned on his heels and walked out. Once the door was closed, he stomped down the carpeted hallway. He needed to get out of this stupid castle, with its bloodlines and expectations and burdens, right now.

Something about the violin always calmed Baz. Maybe it was the meticulousness of it that requires concentration. He couldn’t be blinded by rage when he was playing. If he wanted to sound good, that is. But his anger was raging with so much ferocity right now that he didn’t care. The notes screeched out from the hard press of his bow. He ground the horse hair against the metal strings like they had stolen his money. It was a rapid, furious improvisation that expressed his rage perfectly.

Baz played on the cliff near the shore, sharp toned notes ringing out to the sea and small field behind him. The few servants, carrying laundry or escorting grazing horses, gave him wary looks but knew not to disturb the prince. His entire aura spelled “fuck off”. And everybody understood.

Well, everybody except one.

Baz jolted when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned with a scowl, but it quickly melted into a tired smile.

“Hello, Simon,” he sighed. “How did you find me?”

Simon plopped himself next to Baz, the grabbed his hand. He spelt “Mordy” in his scratchy palm.

“Ah, I see. She must’ve seen me stomp out. I’m sorry I didn’t come find you. I just...I needed some time to be alone and angry. My father tends to do that to me.”

The other boy grabbed his hand and squeezed. Baz felt the second’s urge to pull away, his father’s words ringing in his head. “ Not a viable suitor”, “royal duties take precedence”, “how could he be a king?” But when Simon looked at him like that, with a sympathetic smile and open blue eyes, he thought of nothing else but the warm sensation in his heart.

“Thank you,” Baz whispered. “He’s just so...impossible.”

Simon nodded slowly. He shifted even closer, tapping his bare foot against Baz’s boot. Then he pointed at his violin. Baz raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s a violin, Simon. Have you never seen one before?”

Simon rolled his eye and shook his head. He let go of Baz’s hand and lifted both arms up. One pushed and pulled in the air over the other, his cheek pressed up against his broad shoulder. Both of Baz’s brows went up this time.

“Are you asking me to play for you?”

The boy nodded rapidly with a big grin. Baz gave him a lopsided smile.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll have to play properly.”

Simon shrugged, his smirk sarcastically saying “I guess so”. Baz playfully kicked his foot as he adjusted his instrument.

Baz had been playing the violin for as long as he could hold it up, and even just before. He had memories of poorly using the bow over the strings while his mother or father held the instrument. It was something that truly belonged to Baz, something he did for only himself nowadays. But he gladly shared it with Simon.

He chose a song that wasn’t too sad but not too cheerful either. (He didn’t know cheerful songs.) It started slow and ominous, solid low notes ringing out. This part reminded him of mermaid stories, like the one’s Gareth loved. Those sea creatures who supposedly sang forlorn songs to drag sailors under the ocean. But as he sped up, pulling his bow faster, it became more like the sea itself. Strong, crashing, destructive in its own beautiful way. Baz’s fingers flew up and down and across the neck, tune changing with his nimble movements. The tune built up, up, up until he reached the crescendo, a bursting of intense beautiful sound. Then it settled back into the original slow sound. Baz always thought of the song as a ship going through a storm. Calm, then chaos, then escaping the destruction by sheer chance. It was a nice sentiment. That even after the greatest struggle, you could survive.

Baz took a deep breath as he lowered his violin. Simon started clapping, and Baz turned to look at him. The man was grinning freckled ear to freckled ear. He seemed genuinely impressed by Baz’s playing. That was a first. Anyone who overheard found it too morose or annoying. But not Simon. As if he couldn’t get more perfect.

“Thank you,” Baz said with genuine kindness. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s good to play, especially after the day I’ve had.”

Simon scooted even closer so their knees touched. He laid his hand over Baz’s once again, and all Baz felt was relief. He turned his over to properly lace their fingers together.

“It’s ridiculous,” he muttered. “My father has apparently arranged my entire life for me without my input. Including...a future wife.”

The other man’s grip tightened. Baz brought his fingers to run a soothing pattern over the tense muscles of his hand.

“No no, I don’t want to marry her, Simon. And she doesn’t want to marry me. But our fathers are insisting upon it for political reasons. He thinks it’s my duty to marry a woman and have a child to inherit the kingdom. But...I’m more than my title. I want to honour my mother, but I don’t think she would’ve wanted me to be unhappy forever, right?” Simon nodded, running a thumb carefully over Baz’s skin. Baz nodded slowly as well. “But he’s going to make me marry her anyway, I know it.” He took a long shaky breath, his eyes squeezed shut for a second. “For once, I just...I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, voice broken.

Baz stared at their joined hands. Rough reddish-gold locked with freckled tawny. He so desperately wanted them to stay like this. Together. If only they didn’t have to be here.

Simon tugged on his hand, silently asking for Baz to look up. He was smiling wide as he pointed out towards the open sea. Baz’s brow furrowed, matching his frown.

“What are you trying to say?”

The man silently groaned. He motioned between the two of them, then pointed at the ocean again. Baz was still confused. Simon let go of Baz’s hand and traced his finger over his palm. He spelt out a simple three letter word.

“Run.”

Baz’s eyes widened. His pulse was pounding in his throat. He couldn’t believe what Simon was suggesting. And he couldn’t believe that he was considering it. Watford was his home, the only home he’d ever known. He had responsibilities to the land and its people. His entire life was Watford.

Except...staying here meant not truly living the life he wanted.

Images flashed through Baz’s head. He and Simon together on a sunny beach far away, lounging on the sand, swimming in the ocean, where they could hold hands and kiss as much as they wanted with no one scrutinizing them. No bloodlines or arranged marriages or demanding fathers. Baz desperately need to escape all that. At least, for a little while.

“Yes,” Baz said firmly. “We can go. We should go. For at least a short time, until my father finally lets go of this stupid arranged marriage idea. Then we can come back and he’ll have to accept me. Until then, we can just...be together.”

Simon nodded vigorously, grinning so hard his cheeks must hurt. Baz grinned in return. Much to his happy shock, Simon leaned forward, obviously meaning to kiss him. Baz almost leaned in too, but he quickly came to his senses. He put a hand to Simon’s chest to stop him. The other boy pouted in such an adorable way that Baz almost threw caution to the wind and kissed him right there.

“Not here. Someone could see and tell my father. But tomorrow, meet me in the stables before sunrise. We’ll ride Ivory to the docks and take a boat. The dockworkers will be too hungover to recognise me. Once we’re off sailing we can do...that, all we want, I promise. Okay?”

Simon nodded once again. He squeezed Baz’s hand once. Such a kind, reassuring motion that made Baz’s heart melt. He was so scared and excited all at once. He’d never done anything so reckless in his entire life. But he knew he wanted to. At least as long as Simon was by his side.

Baz stood up, taking his violin, and Simon followed. Their hands stayed linked, both reluctant to let go. “I have to go to a stupid dinner soon. Father most likely won’t want you to attend. Go pack some clothes. There’s a travel sack under your bed. Alright?”

Simon gave a thumbs up. He gave Baz’s hand a last grip, then dashed off with characteristic enthusiasm. Baz watched that glint of bronze until it could no longer be seen. He let out a long, happy sigh. Soon, he’d have to be at that blasted dinner. But at least he’d have something to get through it. Every fantasy of what him and Simon would do once they were away. Away, and together.

He started strolling back towards the castle. He took one step...then he stopped.

Why couldn’t he move?

Baz was frozen in place. His feet were firmly planted on the grassy ground. No matter how much he pulled, he wouldn’t budge. What the fuck was going on?!

“Well, well,” a deep voice said from behind him. “So you’re the human that’s enticed Simon. Unfortunately, your little getaway will have to be cancelled. You’re going to be making other arrangements.”

And with that, Baz’s brain suddenly became foggy. His coherent thought and true desires faded away. Soon, all of Baz’s free will was gone.

Along with every thought of Simon.

Chapter Text

Simon paced back and forth across the hay covered ground. He was getting nervous. He shouldn’t be nervous. Right? Just because it was hours after sunrise and Baz still wasn’t here. Maybe he was busy packing, or couldn’t find something he needed, or worst of all, been caught by Malcolm and his guards. But he wouldn’t have just...forgotten, right?

Simon huffed and planted himself down on the ground. He was so scared. He wished Penny was here to reassure him, but they weren’t speaking. Actually, she would probably berate for doing something this reckless. But she wasn’t here to say anything. So Simon was going to do something stupidly reckless without regret, and definitely without missing Penny. That is, if Baz showed up.

Something in his pocket dug at his side. He slowly pulled out the small silver fish. He sighed, running a finger over it. Simon remembered Baz’s face when he gave him this. His smile was so genuine, so kind. There was absolutely no way someone who looked at him like that would have forgotten him.

Yet, Baz wasn’t here.

If Penny was here, and if she approved, she’d tell Simon to get off his butt and do something. I’ll go find him , Simon thought valiantly. He stood up straight and proudly dashed back towards the Pitch castle. He entered through the servant’s door, into the kitchen. Cook Pritchard was there, rolling dough on the countertop.

“Oh, hello, Simon,” she said. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Prince Basilton?”

Because he didn’t bloody well show up, Simon thought. He just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s in the main hall right now. You can go see him.”

Main hall? Why the hell was Baz there? Simon nodded, then ran off again.

It took him a few tries (this castle was so bloody confusing), but he soon found the large room. He peak in the door, and saw unmistakable raven hair. He grinned, just about to open it all the way, when he heard Malcolm speak.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses, Basil,” he said, sounding quite pleased. Simon slunk back.

“Yes, Father, so am I,” Baz replied. But it didn’t sound like him. Sure, it was his voice, but it was...off. Too stiff, words too cut off. Even when he was being calm, there was still an arrogant tone to it. Now he sounded sort of, empty.

“Your union will bring great prosperity to all of us,” another man announced, tone as happy as Malcom’s.

“Yes, it will, Father.” That was a woman’s voice that Simon didn’t know. She sounded just as empty as Baz.

“So we’re still in agreement, as per our conversation at dinner,” Malcolm said once again. “The wedding will happen this evening, with all the lords and ladies of Watford and the Wellbelove kingdom in attendance.”

Simon’s stomach sank. It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him and he was falling into a cold abyss. No. No. No no no no no. A wedding? Baz was getting married? That couldn’t possibly be true! How could Baz have changed his mind in less than a day? No, this just couldn’t be real. Right?

“Who knew all it took was a walk together by Watford’s lovely ocean for these two lovebirds fall?” The other man said wistfully. “Let’s go get the papers, Malcolm. Leave the bride and groom to be alone for a moment,” the other man said. Simon listened until their footsteps drew away, and when the door closed, he ran inside.

Simon raced around in front of Baz, who hadn’t moved an inch since his father left. He was still as a statue with a face just as blank. As was the blonde woman next to him. Simon waved a hand in front of both their faces. Neither of them reacted. What in Neptune’s name was wrong with them?!

He grabbed Baz’s arms and gave him a firm shake. The prince still didn’t react. Simon kept shaking him, getting more and more desperate. He stared into Baz’s storm cloud eyes for any hint of recognition. But Baz’s gaze stayed expressionless. Not even acknowledging Simon’s existence.

No, Simon thought, wishing he could shout, don’t do this, you bastard. We were supposed to finally to be together. You can’t leave me now!

Footsteps approached. Simon knew his time had run out. He scurried back out the door, leaving a impassive Baz standing exactly where he was.

Simon ran upstairs, towards his room for the last four days. The second he was inside, he threw his bag onto the floor and collapsed on the bed. He let himself sink into the mattress. The softness of it gave him just a semblance of comfort. But something dug into his side.

With a shaky hand, Simon reached into his pocket. He held the metal fish with shaky fingers. How could one little trinket go from bringing hope to creating sorrow in the span of mere minutes? All his dreams were completely crushed now. He’d never ride a horse, dance to music, look at pictures, or eat a sour cherry scone ever again. No, he’d be forced back into a world he didn’t belong in, under his father’s control. Worst of all, he’d never hear Baz’s laugh again, see his smile, hold his hand.

He’d never kiss him. Not even once.

Simon curled in on himself, clutching the tiny fish to his chest, and let himself silently sob.

Penelope’s mind was in the middle of an internal war.

Yesterday, she’d yelled at Simon for being an unreasonable lovesick fool. She felt justified at the time. She wanted to protect her best friend, and he was choosing a stupid prince over his own safety. All because he was infatuated with a human.

Yet, she knew that from day one. Simon had made it clear that he needed to see if there was a chance with Baz. And from what Penny had seen, there was a chance. Baz made Simon happy, and he seemed to make Baz happy too. There was something real between them. Something Penny had callously dismissed because of her own fears.

And maybe it wasn’t all just Baz. Simon was happier as a human than he ever had been as a merman. It was possible he didn’t want to return to the sea at all. Prince or no prince.

“Poseidon’s beard,” Penelope muttered, “I’ve fucked up.

The mermaid swam out from her little cave near Watford’s shore and towards the surface. She was close to a rarely used human dock where few people ventured, but many seagulls did. She would possess one of those annoying birds and find Simon and apologize as best she could. Maybe she could still help.

She emerged out of the water, and nearly bashed her head on the wooden hull of a boat. It was enormous, painted a stark white with golden accents. What was this massive thing doing here? Penelope heard faint music coming from above. But it wasn’t the usual sailor sea shanties she heard, instead being reserved and delicate. Penny’s curiosity peaked.

Above, a seagull circled the sky. Penelope reached her magic out upwards. One lurch in her stomach later, she was in control of the bird. “She” nosedived at the boat. Upon closer inspection, there were loads of humans on the most upper deck. Lots of frilly decorations surround them as they drank and laughed. But what really caught her eye was the large white banner hanging at one end for all to see.

Congratulations to Prince Basilton and Princess Agatha, A Blessed Marriage

Penelope snapped back into her own body with a gasp. Only one thought was in her mind; find her friend.

Simon sat on the dock, feet dangling to let his toes touch the water. The cool liquid was soothing, washing over him in little waves. It was calming enough to almost make Simon forget that his heart was breaking.

Almost.

The HMS Juno, a lovely celebration ship, was sailing off into the distance, towards the setting sun. The grand music from it was fading but still there. Simon had spent all day in his room. No one bothered him. He woke up from his exhausted, sadness induced slumber just as the wedding party set out. He’d run here, still only in his navy nightgown. Now he just watched the ship drift away, the salt water falling from his eyes to mix with the sea below.

“Hey,” Penny spoke softly from the side of the dock. Simon merely lifted his hand weakly in response. He was too sorrowful and tired to still be mad at her.

“I saw the ship, and what’s happening on it. How are you doing?”

He kicked violently, spraying water around him, as to say “how do you think?”

Penelope sighed, folding her arms on the planks next to him and resting her head. “I'm sorry, Si. I realise now how much you want to stay here. And I shouldn’t have belittled that and your feelings for Baz yesterday. You’re happy here, but now with this...I'm just, really sorry.”

Simon grabbed her hand, squeezing it firmly. He gave a her a sad smile, telling her “it’s okay” , with just his face. He didn’t want to stay mad, really. And he was glad to have his friend right now more than anything.

“I just don't get it,” she grumbled. “He was ready to snog you two days ago, and now he's marrying this Princess? Makes no sense.”

Simon shrugged up to his ears. It stupefied him as well. He had no answer, only more questions. Why had Baz changed his mind so quickly? Why was he acting so strange today? What could’ve done that? Why-

Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw a flicker of movement out in the sea. Barely something, but still there.

A flicker of green and gold.

Simon’s spine straightened. He hit Penny’s shoulder rapidly, bouncing up and down.

“Ow! What is it, Si?”

He pointed furiously to what he was looking at. Penelope narrowed her gaze. Slowly it widened with realization.

“Neptune’s beard,” she gasped. “Is, is that David?” Simon nodded with a terrified expression. “Do you think he found you? Looking to drag you back with him?”

Simon nodded again, then pointed at the disappearing ship. He mouthed one word, “Baz!”

Penelope’s eyebrows furrowed in. “Wait you think he has something to do with Baz’s weird behaviour?”

He nodded so hard his head hurt. He didn’t know how to fully explain it without his voice. That he was positive Baz had been hypnotised by his father so the transformation spell would time out before it became permanent. The best that he could do was hold his eyes open and wiggle his fingers, trying to simulate Davy’s magic. Penelope looked at him like he was mad. Simon groaned, throwing his head back. Now more than ever he wished that he had his stupid voice. He pointed at the ship and mouthed “go!”

“You want to go to the ship?” Simon, once again, nodded. Penelope nodded back. “Okay, let’s go.”

Simon stood and dived gracefully into the water. He quickly burst through the surface, swiping his hair back from his forehead. Penelope grabbed his arms and looped them around her neck.

“C’mon, lover boy. Let’s save your prince.”

For a wedding planned in less than a day, it was quite a fancy affair. Everyone was in their finest outfits. King and Queen Wellbelove looked proper and regal. Malcolm was in his favourite suit, black with a red sheen. The Grimm twins tugged on their dresses with big frowns. Mordelia kept asking where Simon was. Daphne tried to keep them all quiet and still. Fiona stood there as well, wearing the only good outfit she had, with her arms crossed and lips pulled down into a scowl. She knew this wasn’t right. That Basilton wouldn’t want this. But she had yelled at him earlier and he hadn’t faltered, not one bit. So she stood there, scowling, hoping her nephew would come to his senses any minute.

Simon watched all of them from a gap in the ship’s deck. He tried to suppress his sadness over seeing Baz walk down the aisle with Princess Agatha. He knew it was all his father’s doing, but it was still painful to watch.

“How are we going to snap him out of it?” Penny whispered next to him. “I’m not sure my magic is strong enough to break a hypnotism.”

Simon shrugged, because he genuinely didn’t know. What on earth could be strong enough to break his father’s enchantment?

“Well, we can try to stop the wedding. Maybe not fulfilling David’s wishes will end the spell?”

The boy nodded. It was a long shot, but he’d try anything right now. Penelope closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were all black like a bird’s. Soon, Simon saw a flock of seagulls, led by one determined one, suddenly rain down on the wedding party. They cawed and pecked and bit at everyone. Chaos erupted The guests screamed and stumbled away from their avian attackers, including the priest. But Baz and Agatha stayed perfectly still while chaos surrounded them.

Shit, Simon thought, why isn’t it wor-

Penelope gasped suddenly. Drawing Simon’s attention back to her. A rope of water was wrapped around her waist. Both their eyes followed it done to it’s source.

Where a very angry looking merman with a glowing trident was swimming.

“Nice try, you two,” he called up. “But it will take more than to stop me.”

He yanked his arm down, pulling Penny down back towards the ocean.

“Simon!” she yelled, reaching out her arm.

Simon reached out as well, but she was already too far away. She starting mouthing "go!" at him over and over again. David held the mermaid firmly, keeping Penelope from escaping with a strong arm. He smirked at Simon as if to say “now what are you going to do, boy?”

Simon glared back, saying “you just watch me, you prick.”

He clambered onto the boat with all his characteristic grace. Seagulls were still attacking guests, which created enough of a distraction for Simon to get close to Baz. He still hadn’t moved an inch. Simon shook him at his shoulders and even smacked his face. No response whatsoever came from the prince.

C’mon, Baz, Simon thought desperately. I know you’re in there. Snap out of it! Please, you have to, before I’m forced to go. I can’t leave you, I don’t want to. I lo-

“Simon! You’re here!” Mordelia chirped as she ran to him, hugging his legs and torso. Simon affectionately patted her head. Unfortunately, that caught Malcolm’s attention.

“What are you doing here?!” He shouted, thought he was less angry and more distressed. “You can’t be here, not now! Guards!”

No no no, Simon thought. Two burly men in armour ran up and grabbed him by the arms. He kicked and shoved them to no avail. He looked out at the setting sun. It was only minutes away from disappearing under the horizon. Slowly, he just let his head drop, resigning himself to his fate. There was nothing he could do. David’s magic was too strong, and Simon had none of his own. It was over.

Meanwhile, down below, Penny was still struggling. She bashed her fists against David’s arm, still holding her in place.

“You stupid fucking bastard,” she spat. “Why can’t you just leave him well enough alone!?”

“Because I need him more than anyone else,” David snarled in reply.

“Bullshit! You just want to control him! Let him be fucking happy for once.”

“Not until my plans are complete!”

Crazy bastard, Penny thought. David always looked a little off, but now he seemed to be bloody unhinged. Whatever he was planning, it was bad, and he was going to make Simon a reluctant part of it.

“Not on my watch,” she muttered. She slapped a hand down on his arm and forced magic through it. David screamed as his flesh burned. That gave Penny the opportunity to shove him off and go back towards the boat, lifting herself up on a pillar of water. She needed to get Simon out of here right now.

“Oh no you don’t!” David roared. His own water tentacle reached out and grabbed her. With pure anger he slammed Penny against the side of the boat, then let her soon-to-be unconscious body fall down towards the sea. David was too rageful and Penelope was too dizzy to noticed that her shell necklace had shattered when he hit her.

Releasing a small orange light, that floated towards the ship

Simon was still slumped over, letting himself be dragged away. He stared at the plain wooden planks with tears in his eyes. His vision was so blurry with tears that he barely saw the tiny light zipping in front of him and into his mouth.

He inhaled deeply. Simon’s throat burned, but not like it was on fire. More of a stretching sensation, his body re-adjusting to something new but ultimately familiar. He immediately knew what had happened. He looked up from the floor, right at Baz’s back.

“Baz!” he shouted.

The Grimm family and Fiona gasped audibly. Everyone else was merely confused.

But that voice, with slightly high pitch and the scratchy undertone, cut through the fog in Baz’s brain like a hot knife through butter. It was too familiar not to. Because even though he’d only heard the voice once before, it was burned into his brain. When he remembered it, he was flooded with wonder and excitement. Two things even more powerful than hypnosis.

You’re incredible, Baz. I hope you know that.

“Ugh,” Baz groaned, stumbling and shaking his head to rid the last of the spell. Agatha faltered too, clutching her forehead. Her family broke from the few still raging seagulls to catch her.

“What’s going on?” she said. “Why am I in a wedding dress?”

“Baz!” Simon yelled again.

Baz turned to see Simon still struggling against the guard’s hold. He rushed towards him, shoving through people as he went. With one well placed sneer, the guards let Simon stumble into Baz’s grasp. He stared at Simon with wide, shocked grey eyes.

“It was you,” he whispered, completely disbelieving. “You saved me, on my birthday. All this time, it was you.”

Simon smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Bit difficult to explain with no voice.”

“But-But how?!”

“It’s...a long story.” His eyes flicked to the rapidly setting sun, heart beating like a rabbit’s. “And I promise to tell you all of it later. But first of all, do you love me?”

Baz’s eyes went even bigger. His grip on Simon’s forearms tightened. “W-Well, it’s only been five days, but I certainly care about you a lot. You’re very kind, and funny, and you make me happy, and I did want to run away with you. I think in time I-”

“Baz!” Simon snapped, then sighed deeply. Neptune's Beard, this man can really overthink, he grumbled internally. “Just, do you want to kiss me?”

There was no debate on that. Baz grabbed his waist and pulled him closer so they were almost nose to nose. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Simon grinned, winding his arms around Baz’s neck. “Good enough for me.”

He leaned up towards Baz’s mouth, and Baz leaned down. They were a breath away. One more move and the spell would be fulfilled. Simon smiled the moment before their lips touched.

Just as the sun set.

“Gah!” Simon exclaimed. The pain was searing, though it wasn’t as intense as when the spell was first cast. He slid down as his feet disappeared under him, grabbing railing before he completely fell. Everyone gasped. Malcolm stumbled. Daphne looked close to fainting. Fiona and the Grimm siblings were both fascinated and shocked. Baz leaned down to Simon’s level. He gaped at the sight before him.

“Simon,” he whispered in total disbelief. “You...you’re...”

“Yeah,” Simon said breathlessly, flipping up his fin. “This is sort of how I saved you that night.”

For once in his life, Baz felt at a loss for words. All he could do was stare at the long blue fish tail in place of Simon’s legs now. It bizarrely made sense. No normal human could have rescued him from that insane storm. But still. Seeing what the strange, incredible boy he had met five days ago really was, was an entirely different thing.

Simon looked so terrified. His eyes were incomprehensibly wide. His breathing was shallow and erratic. What for? Baz couldn’t be sure. But he still reached forward, putting a comforting hand on Simon’s scared face.

“Simon, I-”

“Looks like you were too late, son.”

The booming voice echoed through the air, accented by a crack of thunder and dark clouds. Simon’s terror only increased. He gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he said under his breath.

People screamed as the other merman rose from the sea. He towered over them on a pillar of salt water, holding his golden trident menacingly. His blue eyes immediately focused on Simon. But it wasn’t with affection. It was with a crazed anger that scared even Baz.

“Father,” Simon said, voice tight. “I-I, how did you...where’s Penny?!”

Davy scoffed. “Out of our way. And now, we’re going.”

He grabbed Simon’s wrist, and sharply pulled him over the edge of the boat. Simon reached out over the railing with the most terrified expression Baz had ever seen.

“Baz!” He shouted as he fell.

Baz leaned over the railing, reaching out as well. “Simon!”

They hit the water with a loud splash. And just like that, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Baz couldn’t move. His brain was still trying to catch up to what in the Lord’s name just happened. Simon could talk, and he was a merman, and his crazy merman father had pulled him underwater.

Simon was gone. Literally ripped away from him moments before they finally kissed. And Baz was just fucking standing there because he was in too much shock to bloody move.

“Mother of god,” Agatha said, leaning over the railing next to him. “Was that Simon?

“Yes,” Baz replied from between angrily gritted teeth. “And I’m going to get him.”

He started shedding his white jacket, ripping the buttons out with all the rage and desperation he felt.

“Basilton, what on earth are you doing?” Malcolm clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. Baz threw him off, whipping around so he could properly sneer at his father.

“I lost him once! I’m not losing him again!”

Malcolm took a step back. Baz quickly realised his father didn’t look disgusted or angry. Rather, he looked afraid. Baz’s heart sank. He felt ashamed for being so selfish. For forgetting that, despite his annoying demands and expectations, Malcolm was still his father, who still loved him. And who had lost someone he loved before.

Baz softened. He took his father’s hand loosely in his, matching his gaze unwaveringly. “Father, please understand, I have to at least try to save him. If you’d had the chance to save her, wouldn’t have you have tried?”

Malcolm inhaled sharply. Baz feared he was about to be berated for using his mother’s memory for his own advantage. But to his surprise, Malcolm merely squeezed his hand and nodded slowly.

“Just be careful,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

Baz squeezed back. “You won’t. Now, get the ship as far away as you can. Whatever this crazy...merman is doing, you should all be far from it. Okay?”

Malcolm nodded. Fiona, who stood beside her brother-in-law, nodded too with tightly pressed lips. Baz could see she was barely holding it together as well. She reached into her black boot and pulled out a leather handled knife.

“Here,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “Not sure how effective this will be against a goddamn magical creature, but it’s good too have a weapon.”

“Thank you, Fiona.”

Baz threw off his jacket and slipped the knife into his belt. He stood looking over the edge, balancing precariously on the brass railing. Part of him couldn’t believe he was doing this. But a louder part of him said it was the only real option. He wasn’t going to lose Simon. Baz refused to let him go ever again.

“Don’t die, you wonderful prick,” he whispered, then dived headfirst into the water.

Simon struggled against his father with all his strength, but David’s grip was iron. He dragged them deeper and deeper.

“Let go of me, you arsehole!” Simon roared.

“By Neptune’s beard, I will not,” David yelled in reply. “Look what happened when I left you once. You run away to sleep with the enemy!”

“They’re not the bloody enemy!”

David stop and whipped around to face him. His eyes were filled with crazed rage. “Yes they are! They lord above us on that land, keeping us in hiding, killing us when we dare show our faces. No more! Soon, we will have their precious land. The time of man will be done.”

Simon’s gaze widened with equal wonder and fear. “What in Poseidon’s name are you even talking about?!”

The older merman let out a strange laugh. It was breathy and high pitched. That of a person who’d truly lost their mind. “This is the ultimate goal, Simon. I’ve been scouting the land for years, looking for it’s weak points, then gathering the necessary materials. Today, we’ll finally destroy the human scum. We’ll sink the land beneath the waves. With our combined power and my skill, it’s possible! Then I can rule it like they once ruled over us!”

Simon just stared at his father with an open mouth. He couldn’t believe it. “No,” he whispered. “No, this is crazy! You’re crazy!”

“I’m a visionary, Simon! Why can’t you see that?! We can create a new world together!”

“I don’t want a new world! I just want to be happy!”

David snarled, his grip somehow tightening even more. “Happy? Who needs ‘happy’ when you’re a king?”

Simon pushed his face forward, sneering him like Baz did when he was being harsh. “Not everyone is as heartless as you, Father.”

The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Ambition doesn’t make one heartless, son. It makes one powerful.”

He started pulling Simon further down into the water again. But suddenly, a loud splashing sound caught their attention. A man was swimming down towards, determined fire in his grey eyes.

“Baz,” Simon said under his breath.

“Filthy human,” David grumbled.

His trident glowed as he pointed it at Baz. Tendrils of seaweed whipped up from the ocean floor below and grabbed onto the human’s limbs.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” Simon shouted, pulling even harder against his father’s hand.

“Maybe when this ‘Baz’ is gone, you’ll finally understand my vision, Simon.”

Baz did not give in so easily. He struggled with all his might and attempted to reach for the knife in his belt. But that just made the plants pull him harder. Simon could see him running out of breath.

Simon looked at David with wide, pleading eyes.“Father, stop, please! I’ll go with you if you just let him live!”

“Absolutely not,” David bit out. “He’s only holding you back. He has to die.”

Simon felt his rage flare, and his magic along with it. The water rippled and heated up. With nothing but uncontrolled anger, he screamed one word.

“NO!”

The ocean exploded around him in a thoughtless, powerful boom. There was no sense to it, only pure emotion made manifest. David was knocked far away, hurtling down into the dark waters below. Simon let out a long breath. His mind and body were a bit shaky after using that much uncontrolled magic. But the muffled screams behind him brought him back.

Simon swam up Baz at pilot whale speed. He cut all the seaweed with one tail slash, then snatched the human in his arms and rocketed them towards the surface. Baz gasped much needed of air. Simon held him by his biceps, and Baz held him tightly return. Both boys breathed heavily and stared at each other. The silence between felt charged in a different way than it had ever been before.

“You’re a merman,” Baz finally said, voice bewildered and amazed.

Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Which is how you saved me from the shipwreck, on my birthday.”

“Yeah. I was...nearby when the storm hit.”

“How did you have legs before?”

“Sacrificed my voice to be human. Y’know, magic and stuff.”

“But, why?”

Simon didn’t respond with words, same as he had for days. Instead, he reached out a hand towards Baz. When the prince didn't flinch away, Simon cupped his face, thumb tracing over his sharp cheekbone. Baz’s breath hitched at the reverent expression on Simon’s face. He felt the blush spread across on every place where Simon touched. He could barely believe it. That this impossible creature would give up his voice, his magic, and his entire world for a simple human. For Baz. “Oh...

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, almost sardonically. “Impulsive, I know. I was supposed to kiss you in five days to make the change permanent. But we were running out of time, and my father decided to get in the way.”

“He did seem cross.”

“You have no idea. So we have to get you out of here, before he comes back.”

Baz gripped him even tighter. “No, I won’t leave you!”

Simon’s face fell. His heart twisted at Baz’s broken, desperate face. “Baz, it’s too late for me. I can’t escape to land now, and I have to stop my father before he pulls off his insane plan. Please, let’s just get you back to shore-”

“You can run all you want, human, but you’ll still die. Either here, or with your kin.”

Both men looked in horror as David rose from the waves on a tower of water. His trident’s glow was even more menacing than usual. Simon put his arms out in front of Baz, making himself a shield between the human and his father.

“Don’t touch him,” he growled.

David scoffed with a smug smirk. “Or what, you’ll stop me?”

Simon let his magic flare out. The water and air heated up, becoming agitated with his explosive energy. Baz felt the urge to slink away, but instead stayed close. He had a feeling that staying near Simon was his best chance at survival.

“Yes.”

David shook his head, chuckling smugly. His water pedestal lifted him higher as a practical tidal wave swelled behind. The air thundered again even louder, the incoming tsunami casting an intimidating shadow over the pair.

“Wrong answer, son.”

The massive wave rushed towards them. Simon scrambled to grab Baz’s hand. He turned his head, frantic blue meeting terrified grey.

“Baz, I’m so sorry. I lo-”

The water crashed violently into them, throwing the lovers apart. Both watched the other fly away into the depths of the ocean. They reached out, trying to grab onto each other. Trying to save each other.

Simon stopped so suddenly his breath was completely knocked out. He felt Davy’s thick hand grand the back of his neck. His nails dug into Simon’s skin, making the boy’s heart rate increase exponentially.

“You should’ve joined me willingly, Simon,” he growled into his ear. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but now I will have to take what I need.”

David’s other hand rummaged in the pouch on his belt, then thrust forward in front of SImon. In his palm was a smooth jet black gem attached to a thin rope. Simon could feel the magic radiating off the object, but it felt...wrong. It was like a dry sucking sensation, pulling Simon’s own power towards that.

“What,” Simon choked out, “in Neptune’s name is that?”

“An ancient relic I thought lost. Legend says it can take away a merfolk’s magic. Some called it the ‘insidious humdrum’, because it makes a merfolk powerless, almost human. But I have improved it. Now, I can use it to take magic and add it to my own. So since you won’t join me, I can take your’s. ”

Simon’s blood went cold. He struggled against his father even harder. “No! Let go of me!” He tried to blast David away again, but his magic sputtered uselessly inside him. He was so scared, for the humans and for Baz and himself, that his power couldn’t find any grounding. Not even anger could make it past his sheer terror.

David chuckled, equal parts smug and derogatory. “Your power is wasted on a useless bleeding heart coward like you. You can never stop me.”

“But I can.”

Both of their heads snapped up. Penelope glared daggers at David, arms crossed over her chest.

“Hello again,” she said with fake sweetness. “Y’know, getting smashed against a boat really fucking hurt, Davy. Let me return the favour.”

She threw her hand. A concentrated jet of water shot out to hit the merman right in the chest. He flew away from Simon, freeing him to swim up to Penny. He hugged her fiercely.

“Thank Neptune you’re okay,” he whispered. “I thought he’d killed you.”

Penny scoffed, hugging him back. “It’d take more than fucking Davy to kill me , Si.”

He pulled back, gripping her shoulders. “We have to stop him, Pen. He wants to steal my power and sink all land!”

“Shit,” she hissed. “Crazy bastard. C’mon, let’s-”

Penelope’s words were cut off by the sudden boom. A whirlpool opened up beneath them. It was terrifying sensation, falling down in the open air as the water disappeared and created a funnel around them. The young merfolk hit the now dry ocean ground with horrible crack. Thunder and lightning exploded in the menacingly dark sky. All the old shipwrecks Simon loved so dearly floated to the surface, circling the vortex. They were like an army of decayed guards around them, with David at their head.

“Both of you.” he boomed, “such terrible nuisances. I can take your magic from both of your corpses.”

He pointed his trident towards the sky, then swung it back down. Lightning streaked down towards them. Penelope and Simon barely dived out of the way before being fried, leaving a black mark on the ground that was almost them. David did it again and again, each time only just missing the younger merfolk. Penelope threw her own smaller bolts of electricity at David but he dodged each one. Simon threw up makeshift shields, bouncing the lightning off, though each one got weaker each time.

“Fuck,” Penelope growled in frustration. “If only we could throw him off.”

And her prayers were answered, in the form of one of the smaller old ships breaking rank. It lurched in the water, then rammed straight into David. He howled probably in pain and shock, knocked off his pillar then forced underwater beneath it. Simon and Penny looked up. And Simon grinned.

“Baz,” he sighed.

Baz grinned back, saluting from the head of the ship. Simon’s heart soared.

But the celebration was premature. A geyser erupted through the middle of Baz’s ship, splitting it in half, with the insane merman at it’s head. He grabbed the prince by his throat, holding him up high.

“You insolent little land walker.” David squeezed harder, making Baz wheeze. “I should have just killed you. I-”

Suddenly, David yowled as streak of Penelope’s lightning cut across his shoulder. His grip on Baz loosened slightly, just enough for Baz to regain most of his reasoning. His eyes flicked over to whirlpool. He focused Simon, who was yelling something that he obviously couldn’t hear over the roaring water. But he’d been reading Simon’s lips for five days.

“The necklace! Get me the necklace!”

Baz looked at the black stone hanging around David’s thick neck. He ripped Fiona’s knife from his belt and sliced the thin rope in one easy slash.

“No!” David shouted. Baz hurled the stone down into the whirlpool. He threw Baz into the ocean, who hit the water with a thwack.

Simon gasped in horror. He could only watch helplessly as the man he loved was tossed away like trash. But he couldn’t think about that right now, as much as he desperately wanted to. Not when David was flying towards them, following the humdrum as it fell towards.

“Oh no you don’t!” Penelope yelled. She said a spell and threw all her magic into it, creating a powerful wind to hold David back. He stopped in midair while the necklace kept falling, scrabbling and scratching at Penny’s spell like a mad dog. Simon caught the stone in a firm grip. He felt it’s nefarious magic reach out towards his own. He knew it was too powerful for David to have.

It was too powerful for anyone to have.

Simon picked up the nearest stone and held it over his head. It became stronger in his hand. Like all his magic, there was no technique, only pure thought. He forced all his wants into the rock. His desire to stop his father, to protect Baz and all other humans, to destroy this tool of evil. David saw what his son was doing. He struggled harder, managing to push forward so he was only a few feet away.

“Simon, no!” David roared.

And Simon brought down the rock on the humdrum, smashing it to dust in one blow.

The kickback was monstrous. Destroying such a powerful artifact had powerful consequences. Simon and Penelope shielded their eyes from the bright flash and massive shockwave. The whirlpool imploded around them from the force. With a great sound like thunder, it became a massive geyser that shot forty feet into the air. Simon and Penelope flew in one direction, while David flew in another.

The young merfolk hit the water with a painful splash. Simon swam back to the surface just as storm clouds dissipated and the shipwrecks were sunk back into the waves. Only one thing remained floating. Or rather, one person

He rushed towards Baz at breakneck speed. Penelope followed behind. The human was floating on his back thankfully with his face towards the air, though not awake. Simon pressed an ear to his chest.

“Is he...” Penelope’s worried voice trailed off.

Simon let out a choked, relieved laugh. “He’s alive,” he sobbed. “Banged up and unconscious, but alive.”

Penelope sighed heavily, all the anxiety leaving her in that one breath. Simon took Baz in his arms, holding his body close. “We have to get him back to shore, Si, before-”

“Insolent brats!”

They both turned around. David lurched towards them. He didn’t look so intimidating now. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were tired, and the arm holding his trident was shaking with effort. Simon growled and held Baz closer to him.

“It’s over, Father,” he said firmly. “The humdrum is gone. You’re finished, and so am I.”

“It’s not over!” David tried to sound intimidating, but his voice was so pathetic that Simon almost pitied him. He pushed towards Simon, holding out his weapon. “I will end the humans, I will have my king-”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Penelope flipped a single finger up. David froze, all his muscles suddenly clenched up. He was so focused on Simon that he hadn’t noticed Penelope muttering a paralysis spell under her breath. “You’re never going to hurt Simon, Baz, me, or anyone else ever again.”

“And...you’re going to...stop me?” He choked out.

Penelope clenched her fist. David gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe. “Yes.” She flicked her eyes over to Simon, softening when she looked at him. “Get Baz to shore, Simon. I’ll deal with Davy.”

A few days ago, Simon might’ve asked her to just let his father go. But David wasn’t just overly demanding, he was destructive, almost evil. Simon was pretty sure Penny wouldn’t kill him. But she would damn well make him suffer. That was good enough for him.

Simon nodded. “Okay.”

David tried to shout after him, but Simon was already swimming away, and didn’t plan on turning back. He held Baz close to his chest. His magic seeped out unconsciously, healing Baz’s bruises and wounds again. The human murmured incoherently in his sleep.

“It’s okay, Baz,” Simon whispered. “Everything’s alright, love. It’s done now. You’re okay. We both are.”

Baz hummed happily, instinctively curling into Simon. Simon’s heart both soared and broke.

The sun was rising in the east, bathing Watford’s shore in dark orange light. On the pale white sand lay the kingdom’s prince, who still slept in his torn wedding clothes. No one had seen him yet. Except the person who’d saved him. Again.

Simon sat on the rock, tail curled under him, still wearing the soaked navy nightshirt. He watched Baz on the shore from afar, as he had before and now probably would for the rest of his life. He’d lost his chance. The spell was done. Maybe Penny could cast it again. Simon doubted she would be willing to though. They’d just been through hell, and the pain was almost too much for him to bear last time. Could he really suffer even more? All for the human world? All for Baz?

Yes, he could.

“Hey.”

Simon didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Hey Pen,” he replied quietly. “Father’s gone away?”

“Yeah. Scared him out of his scales. He won’t bother you or anyone else ever again. How’re you doing?”

Simon shrugged, like he always did, but the pain in his eyes spoke volumes.

Penny sighed. She was so sad for her friend. He’d been so close to escaping David and finally being happy. It felt wrong that he didn’t get the life he so desperately wanted, as well as the person he so desperately wanted to be with.

“You really do love him, don’t you?” she said softly

Simon’s lip pressed together, eyes brimming with tears. And slowly, he nodded.

“Well,” Penny sighed, “I could cast that silly spell and take your voice all over again. Or... I could do something better with this.” She slowly raised the trident out of the water. Simon turned and his jaw hit the seafloor.

He slipped into the water next to her, hands hovering cautiously over the instrument. “How’d you get it?!”

“Your father dropped it after I made him swim off like a coward. Thought I could put it to better use than him.”

“C-Could you really do it with that?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely powerful enough. It may not be able to sink all of land on it’s own, but it can certainly make you a filthy human forever.”

They giggled, but the air quickly became heavy. This was it. No changing his mind later. Penny cupped her friend's cheek, swiping her thumb across it to wipe away his tears. Her mouth pressed together and quivered, her own tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“You’re sure this is what you want, right?” she asked with a shaky voice.

Simon turned his head back to the beach. Back to where Baz lay flat on the ground. Brave, strong, wonderful Baz, an incredible part of the world Simon now wanted to live in forever. “Yeah, definitely.”

Penny quickly wrapped her arms around Simon in a crushing hug. And he hugged her right back, burying his face her soft hair.

“I’m going to miss you, Simon,” she whispered.

Simon let out a choked sob. “Me too, Penny. I love you, so much.”

She sniffled, trying to keep back more tears. “I love you too.”

And she really did, which was why she had to do this.

Baz didn’t know how he kept ending up like this, waking up on a beach,  body aching all over. It would take awhile to recover from that fight with Simon’s insane merman father. (Christ, his life had suddenly gotten so weird lately.) He slowly opened his eyes. A blurry mix of familiar colours hovered above him. Again.

Am I dreaming of when he saved me, or when I found him? Baz thought. But when his vision came into full focus, there was Simon’s very real face only a foot away from him, with his enchanting blue eyes and gorgeous mess of bronze hair. He certainly looked real enough, but Baz still wasn’t fully convinced. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. But the other boy wasn’t naked this time (thank god), now dressed in that soaked blue night shirt he was in before. His sea scented breath was hitting right against Baz’s nose, and he was grinning with all his teeth.

“Good morning, darling,” Simon said.

“You’re here,” Baz replied, still in too much shock to move.

“Yeah.”

“You can talk.”

“M-hm.”

Baz’s eyes flicked downward. “You have legs.”

“Uh-huh. For good now. No time limit or required kiss.”

Baz rubbed his forehead. “This is still so insane.”

Simon sat back in a kneel, left corner of his lip quirked up. “Are you just going to lay there and keep stating the obvious? Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

Baz sat up, legs spread, knees bent, and arms propped behind him, glaring menacingly. “I think I might’ve preferred you with no voice.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Oh well in that case, I’ll just go.”

He began to stand, but a sharp tug on his wrist sent him tumbling down. He was pulled between Baz’s long legs, chest nearly colliding with his. The prince held Simon’s face firmly in his rough hands. Simon’s heart stopped at the intense look in Baz’s swirling grey eyes. He saw a determined, fierce kind of affection in them. He hoped to see that look for the rest of his life.

“No,” Baz said flatly. “I’m never letting you go ever again.”

“You’re adorable," Simon giggled, reaching to grip the front of Baz’s tattered shirt.

A blush spread across his dark complexion. “Shut up.”

He tapped his forehead against his prince’s, gazing into his eyes with equal parts of caring and mischief. “Make me.”

Baz surged forward and did just that.

Simon had never even thought of his first kiss before Baz. And even after meeting Baz, he'd imagined a short, chaste peck. Just enough to seal the spell. But this kiss was so much more. It was Baz’s soft lips slowly but perfectly moulding to Simon’s, long fingers clutching his curls tightly, their bodies perfectly lined so they could feel every part of each other. Simon kissed back with equal vigour, twisting Baz’s shirt up to dig his nails into Baz’s smooth, cool skin. Both of them felt like their very bones were lit up with utter joy. Because they finally had what they’d almost lost.

Too tired from the fight and too happy from this incredible first kiss, the men collapsed together. Baz fell backward and Simon followed. He held himself on all fours above Baz, and made him reach for his mouth. And Baz pulled him back down, again and again.

“I’m never letting you go either,” Simon whispered with ragged breath.

Baz giggled happily, and Simon did the same in return. The two descended in joyful sounds, rolling onto their sides with their foreheads together. They equally laughed and cried with joy. So much so they couldn’t even find a moment kiss again. After everything, they finally had each other. And for this moment at least, the rest of the world simply melted around them.

Far off in that forgotten world, a young mermaid spied them from behind a rock. She smiled to herself as she looked away, giving them their deserved privacy.

“Idiots in love,” she sighed. “Good choice, Si. Bloody good choice.”

Chapter Text

Two and a half years later

Baz never thought he'd look forward to his own wedding day. He always assumed it would be to a princess he didn't love at his father's request. Hell, it almost was. But now he stood smiling below deck of the HMS Juno, doing up the last button on his green coat (he refused to wear white) while Fiona fussed with his hair, and was so bloody excited

“So many strands keep falling out,” she muttered, trying to wrangle her nephew’s naturally wavy locks. “Jesus, your hair is almost as bad as Natasha’s curly mane was.”

“It's alright if you can't get all of,” Baz said kindly. “Simon likes it loose.”

She sighed dramatically. “Well, Simon doesn't understand that foreign lords want you to look regal. It being an official event and such.”

“But I’m a prince. Don't I always look regal by default?”

Fiona caught his sly smirk in the mirror, and rolled her eyes as she finally slicked back all his hair. She clapped his shoulder with a smile. “Perfect. You look fucking great, Baz.”

Baz put his hand over hers, squeezing once. “Thank you, Aunt Fiona. For everything.”

And he meant that. Even after the craziness of Simon’s father, Malcolm was still a bit hesitant to let the boys be together. Fiona had yelled at him so loud everyone’s ears rang. She’d repeated what she’d told Baz, that her own parents had been against Malcolm and Natasha marrying. And if Malcolm truly wanted to honour his late wife’s memory, he’d let their son be with who he wanted too. Baz had to try very hard to keep from smiling the entire time. Malcolm relented on the condition that Simon and Baz wait at until they were at least twenty-one to get married. Which the boys agreed to, as they wanted time together without the binding nature of marriage. Maybe deep down Malcolm hoped the time would end their relationship.

But the two years year had not changed Simon and Baz’s feelings. Rather, it had only made them grow stronger. The men were so different yet fit so perfectly. Simon would get Baz to do new, fun activities and properly alert him when he was being a prick. Baz would kindly teach Simon about human things and keep him from doing anything too destructively impulsive. Eventually, at Malcolm's suggestion, Baz started asking for Simon’s help on kingdom policies, and they were a surprisingly good governing team. The king and the council were quite impressed at their combined work.

Sometimes their time together wasn’t even that life changing. Sometimes it was just Baz reading to and playing the violin for his ‘sweetheart’ (as Fiona mockingly called Simon). Or Simon baking a new recipe for Baz to try while talking about his work day at Ebb’s bakery. Or even just going wandering around town and swimming in the ocean. It was the happy life they both so desperately wanted, and they had it together.

So after about six months together, they knew they would get married. Because late one night, when they were laying on the beach and staring at the star speckled sky, Baz told Simon he was sure he was hopelessly in love with him. And almost immediately, Simon whispered that he was too between pressing heated kisses to Baz’s cool lips.

Now, after half a year of planning the grand affair, Baz stood in front of the mirror, grinning more than he ever had in his life. Because it was his wedding day, and he was marrying the man he knew he wanted to spend his every day with. He was living quite the charmed life.

A knock sounded against the door. Fiona rushed to open it. “Simon!” She practically squeaked. “You’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!”

Baz strided up behind her. “I’m pretty sure that only applies to brides, Fiona. And if you haven’t noticed, neither of us are brides.”

She sighed exasperatedly. “Very well. Just don’t take too long. We have a wedding to get to!”

“Of course, Fiona,” Simon said sweetly.

With that, Fiona Pitch let herself out and closed the door behind her. Simon walked forward, grinning just as hard as Baz, maybe even harder. He looked so uncharacteristically clean cut. His wild hair was slicked back (though the stray curl escaped) and he was wearing the stunning grey suit that had once been Baz’s. He’d gifted it to Simon ages ago, because it fit the other man so much better. Baz reached up to fix a button at Simon’s collar, while also pulling his fiancé closer. It was just far too convenient.

“Hello, love,” he whispered. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Simon chuckled while winding his arms around Baz’s waist. “Well, I was invited, was I not?”

“It wouldn’t be happening without you, darling.” He sighed, delicately holding Simon’s neck, trailing up and down his skin. “It really wouldn’t.”

“Well, I can't take all the credit. You did heroically dive after me to save me from my evil arsehole father. Though you did fail...”

“You’re forgetting that I also drove a bloody ship into him.”

“Yes, but then I had to save you from drowning. Again.

Baz flicked his face, eliciting snickers from Simon. “Can't believe I'm marrying someone as infuriating as you.”

“But you are,” Simon singsonged. He kept giggling, so Baz kissed him to shut him up.

Simon and Baz had kissed many times in the past two years. There was their first one on the beach, the small ones when they said goodbye after a long day together, and the breathless ones they shared in Baz’s room or Simon’s flat at night. But every kiss, every time their lips slotted together perfectly, still felt so amazing. Definitely including this one.

When the men pulled apart, they kept their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. Baz traced over the silver buttons of Simon’s jacket. Simon delicately dragged his hand up and down Baz’s sides. Soon they would need to put on a show for everyone else. But this moment was just for them.

“I love you,” Baz whispered.

Simon sighed, lacing their fingers together and brushing his nose against Baz’s long one. And he said “I love you too” with absolutely no words.

A banging on the door made them both jump. “Simon! Baz!” Mordelia yelled. “Fiona says if you two aren’t out here in five minutes she’s dragging you out by your ears!”

Simon muffled his laugh in Baz’s shoulder. Baz stroked his back while rolling his eyes at his little sister through the door.

“We’ll be right out, Mordy!”

“You better be!”

The little girl’s skips faded away one by one. Simon pulled back, body still convulsing with laughter.

“You’re family, is insane,” he stuttered out.

Baz rolled his eyes with a wry smile. “Well you’re about to become a part of it, so what does that say about you?”

Simon shrugged. (Baz had realised ages ago that, even with a voice, Simon shrugged very often.) “Guess that means I’m insane too.”

“I supposed we match then.” Baz gripped his hand tightly, just once. Simon showed a toothy grin and squeezed back.

“I guess we do.”

Baz pulled Simon towards the door. “Come along then. We’ve got a wedding to attend.”

Simon skipped to follow him. “That we do, love.”

Because there would be no bride in this affair, it had been decided early on that Baz and Simon would walk each other down the aisle. Lords and ladies alike stood on both sides as the couple strolled past arm in arm. They stayed stoic, as was customary. But they noticed the small smiles on their friend’s and family member’s faces. Malcolm wasn’t smiling, but when he and Baz made eye contact, the corners of his lips turned up, just slightly. Baz immediately felt resounding relief.

They stopped in front of the priest, hand in hand. The holy man droned on about love and commitment and tying lives together for eternity. All things Simon and Baz had already thought and talked about on their own. So neither of them paid great attention to him. Baz was too focused on the way Simon’s freckles and moles crinkled with his grin. And Simon lost himself in Baz’s deep sea eyes, now lit up with joy.

“Do you,” the priest said loudly, “Prince Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Baz held his hands just a bit tighter. “I do.”

“And do you, Simon Snow, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Simon smiled just a bit wider. “I do.”

“You may exchange the rings.”

Baz pulled the ring from his pocket first. It was a gold band, just smooth yellow metal. Simple, yet elegant. Baz and Simon had picked them together over two years ago, the day after their confessions on the beach. One slipped onto Simon’s finger, and then the other went just as easily onto Baz’s. They held hands again, standing much closer.

“Then by the power vested in me,” the priest announced. “I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom.”

Simon leaned forward, but yelped as he was suddenly swept into a dip. Baz loomed over him with a smug grin.

“Show off,” Simon giggled.

“Oh, shut up,” Baz replied. Then kissed him firmly to a roar of applause.

They separated reluctantly, but they also knew there’d be more time for kissing (and a lot more) later. Everyone cheered and tossed rice at the newly wedded couple as they walked back down the aisle. Baz lifted his hand to try to block them, scowling menacingly. He did not appreciate small white pellets being tossed at him. But when Simon laughed loudly, his frown softened.

The applause died down. Except for one person at the very end of the boat. Everyone turned to face the noise, and some nearly fainted. But Simon grinned. He pulled Baz to the very edge of the ship, nearly crashing into the railing.

“Hey, Pen,” he said fondly.

“Hey, boys” Penelope replied from her water pillar. “I think congratulations are in order.”

Simon lifted up his ring hand, still holding Baz’s. “Yup. I’ve officially tied him down.”

Baz scoffed. “Like you could ever tie me down, Snow. I’m too much of a free spirit for that.”

Simon stuck his tongue out, then pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. Penny promptly made an overdramatic gagging noise.

“You do that again in front of me, I’ll zap you into next week.” She waved her trident menacingly. After defeating David, she’d kept the weapon, and certainly put it to much better use than he ever did.

“I know you would, Pen.” He leaned forward, a lazy smile on his lips. “This wouldn’t have happened without you, y’know.”

She put a hand to her chest, lifted her chin smugly. “Yes, it’s all thanks to me. I’m the world’s greatest matchmaker.”

Baz rolled his eyes. “Taking a bit too much credit there, I think.”

Penelope reached out and patted his head, only making him groan and scowl. “Even on your wedding day, you’re still such a sourpuss, Basilton. Simon, what do you see in him?”

The men stared at each other for a long moment. Simon let his gaze linger over Baz’s sharp face, which was softened by his content smile. Even with his voice he couldn’t describe exactly what he loved about Baz. Their relationship wasn’t made of words. It was made of charged moments, kind actions, and shared adoring expressions that said so much more than speech. And Baz looked at him in the exact same way.

“A lot,” Simon said softly. “I see a lot.”

“Me too,” Baz replied, voice just as kind.

Simon pressed a quick kiss to his lips, which promptly made them both turn bright scarlet in bashful happiness.

“Neptune’s Beard, you two are disgusting,” Penny groaned.

Before Baz could shoot back some equally snide remark, Simon stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his friend. Penny stiffened at first, but quickly reciprocated. There was a chorus of ‘aws’ behind them they soundly ignored.

“Thank you, Penny,” he whispered, on the brink of happy tears. “Thank you so, so much.”

“You’re welcome, Si. I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”

The friends separated. Simon pecked on her cheek, and she made the appropriate sarcastic ‘yuck’ noise. Baz, proper gentleman that he was, offered his hand to shake, which Penelope gladly took.

“Come visit the cove when the honeymoon’s done, yeah?” Both the men nodded. They’d made a habit of visiting Penelope in a small cove just off the castle every two weeks at least. It wasn’t a tradition they planned to break any time soon.

Penelope slowly lowered back down into the ocean, waving as she went. “Congratulations, boys!”

The ship started to move again. It would make a long circle of the ocean while they all celebrated. Simon and Baz waved back, watching as the mermaid shrank away then dived back under the sea.

Simon sighed, leaning his head onto his husband’s shoulder. “I need a nap,” he mumbled

“Hate to tell you, love, but we need to go entertain our guests.”

Simon groaned and pushed his face into Baz’s jacket. “Fine. But can we get scones?”

Baz lightly kissed his hair. “Of course we can, Simon.”

They walked back towards the wedding guests, who were starting to mill about around the grand ship. The newlyweds graciously received their polite well wishes from visiting nobility. Fiona rubbed their hair so hard that both of them looked disheveled. Ebb gave them big tearful hugs. Niall and Dev gave them brotherly, yet slightly painful, slaps to the back. Daphne kissed their cheeks and wished them a happy union. The Grimm children enthusiastically asked when Simon was moving into the castle. (“After the honeymoon,” Baz replied. “Not like it will be a big change though,” Simon said. “I practically live there already.”) Agatha, along with her own “sweetheart”, congratulated them warmly. Finally, Malcolm shook their hands.

“Congratulations, you two,” he said.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Simon started bowing, but Malcolm waved for him to stop.

“No need for that, Simon. You’re family now. Malcolm will do just fine.”

Simon smiled, holding Baz’s hand a bit tighter. “Okay, Malcolm.”

Malcolm placed a strong hand on Baz’s shoulder. For once, he didn’t try to hide his happy expression, not even a bit. “Your mother would be very proud of you too, Baz.”

Baz blinked rapidly, trying to process the words. The sentiment was wonderful enough. He could almost imagine his mother standing there, saying something similar, giving him a kiss on the cheek and a soft smile. It was also the first time in Baz’s entire memory that his father had called him by his preferred name. It was such a small gesture, but it meant the world to him. He placed his free hand over his father’s. He wouldn’t go for a hug of course, but this meant just as much.

“Thank you, father,” he replied, voice thankfully only cracking slightly.

Malcolm nodded once then went back to join the fray. Simon and Baz stood still for a second, simply watching the people around them, hand in hand.

“You happy, Baz?” Simon whispered playfully.

Baz turned to him and tucked a tousled curl behind his ear. “Yes, Simon. More than I ever thought I could be.”

“Good.” Simon tapped their noses together. “Me too.”

They kissed softly once. Then a few more times, just because they could. Suddenly, everyone around them gasped and they pulled apart. A gorgeous rainbow arched over their boat. But there was no rain to cause it. The men looked over the edge of the boat, and caught a glimpse of a purple fin diving into the water.

“She’s thinks she’s funny,” Simon chuckled, shaking his head.

“Obviously,” Baz said. He tried to sound annoyed but couldn’t help smiling.

“C’mon.” He tugged Baz towards the crowd of people. “Let’s go.”

Simon meant more than the party. He meant their future together, full of so much potential. No more worrying about possibly miserable lives for either of them. The couple knew they’d always have each other, for anything. Nothing could keep them apart. Not land or sea, not magical plots or disapproving fathers. Because Simon loved Baz, and Baz loved Simon. There was not a single more powerful truth in this world.

They would carry on together, no matter what.

“Yes, Simon,” Baz said, spinning his husband into his arms, ready to dance the evening away. “Let’s.”

The End.