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It was cold down this deep. Cold and dark, with strange sorts of creatures flitting in and out just at the edges of Tony’s vision – creatures he was certain he had never seen before, and which he was grateful he still wasn’t seeing very clearly now.
It might have been a mistake in coming this deep. There had been plenty who had said as much when he’d expressed his intention to explore, telling him how much of a fool he was in making the journey at all, and then again by making it alone… and thrice the fool for why he was making the journey at all.
It could only be a fool who would chase children’s fairytales, after all. Stories told to little mers to help ease them to sleep, or to fire up their imaginations. It was a foolish merman who would still lend any credence to the things which were told of in such stories, let alone who would leave his pod to actually seek out the artifacts promised in them.
Tony was, then, thrice the fool.
But what could be the real harm in seeing for himself if there were any truth to the tales? The myth of the conch and its pearl, for instance, was one which appeared in multiple tales, and not just those reserved for children. There were allusions to it in the oldest histories, hints and nods that there had at least at one time existed something which resembled the conch and its coveted pearl. In the tales, the conch and the pearl possessed powers – powers reminiscent of the Fathomless Ones, who had shaped the seas and birthed the first race of civilized merfolk.
The power to grant one their heart’s desire.
In the tales it was an artifact of both wonder and terror, leading folk to their destiny or their ruin, depending upon their wisdom and the nature of their desires. It could lead one to wonders and happiness untold, or it could lead them to madness and uncertainty. It all depended upon the story being told…
—•—
He had gone so deep that the pressure of the sea around him was making it difficult to move. The lamp which Tony had brought with him was struggling now to illuminate anything at all, the very light itself being strangled and smothered before it could go very far. It was tempting to douse the light entirely. It felt as though the illumination was acting as a beacon, drawing in the moving shadows which flitted in and out of sight… but to douse the light and be in nothing but darkness seemed an even less wise decision…
Still he pushed on, ever searching, and not knowing what exactly it was he was searching for. The conch, of course, but where did he expect to find it? What would it look like? How would he know if he were coming near? He had only the old tales to work from, the ones which told of it being hidden in places deep and dark, and guarded by—
He came to a cave, and stopped.
The darkness within was thick, so heavy that the light of Tony’s lamp refused to touch it at all. It simply stopped at the entrance, and left Tony guessing as to what might be hidden within.
He might not have been able to see, but something about the cave spoke to Tony. Some strangeness in the currents around the entrance which whispered to him – here.
Tony stayed, uncertain of what to do next, his tail twitching uncertainly, gills fluttering in the stifling waters. The obvious thing to do would be to go inside the cave, to at least see a little of the inside and decide if it was worth exploring in more detail… but common sense told him another tale. Common sense told him what madness it was to dive into an unknown cave and to poke around in what was surely another creature’s territory. The recklessness of such a move only became truer when so far from familiar currents, so deep where the very shadows laid in wait to seize on him.
More than common sense, though, he felt that there was something in there which did not want him. Something was in there, and wished nothing more than for him to leave. Something which, if he were to be so foolish as to intrude on those shadows, seeking to drive them back and discover the secrets held within, would have no compunction in driving him back out again. Or in devouring him.
For a long time, Tony didn’t move, his instincts battling each other as he stared into the mouth of the cave. He had come so far, it seemed the height of stupidity to turn back now, especially when he was so certain that he had at last found something worth exploring. And yet he could not seem to force himself to swim forward into that maw.
He waited so long, the shadows of the cave themselves grew impatient, and unfolded before his eyes.
It took an act of will to not turn fin and flee at sight of the creature coming from the cave. Wreathed in inky shadow, it was something straight from the darkest of the tales which had led Tony into the deeps.
The shadows of the cave sprouted trailing tentacles, reaching and grabbing as they came from the depths, wrapping about stone and pulling as they heaved the body they were attached to from the darkness. And what they were attached to – what they were, was the strangest kind of mer Tony had ever seen, a kind he had only ever heard tell of. He was one whose lower body split into those curling, seeking tentacles, rather than into the strong, sleek tail and fins of most folk. It was strange and fascinating, holding Tony’s attention for a time even as the mer’s torso and face came into the weak light of his lamp.
It was a mer who faced Tony. He upper half was lean and sharp, in contrast to his lower half, with a cloud of dark hair floating about his face. And his face… once Tony’s eye reached the mer’s face, his entire attention was arrested, caught in the intensity of the gaze which awaited him. For it was a gaze which seemed even deeper and darker than the shadows crouching in the cave.
He stared for so long that when the strange mer smiled, Tony physically startled.
“Well, now,” he said, and Tony shivered at the low warmth of his voice, so different from the coldness surrounding them. “It’s been some time since a young mer such as yourself has found themselves lost so far into the dark…”
The tentacles all seemed to have a mind of their own, curling and uncurling, wrapping about stones and each other freely, coiling all around him in a constant, mesmerizing dance.
“Have you become so lost…?” The voice really was very low and warm… soothing. It was like coming back to the familiar currents of home after being lost in this strange place for so long. It relaxed him, reassured him that everything was fine…
“Should you like for me to take you home again… Or would you like to come and rest here with me…?”
The voice pulled him more and more into a comforting warmth, into a place where nothing seemed quite so urgent anymore, not quite so… important. What the voice was saying made sense. He was tired, and he ought to rest before he tried returning home…
The touch of one of those tentacles against his tail, against his wrist, seeking to wrap and take hold, was enough to jerk him back into awareness. Thrashing hard, Tony backed away as quickly as he could, holding tight to the lamp in his hands – he dared not lose his one source of light now. Not now that he knew what was in the darkness just beyond his sight.
The face of the strange mer contorted for a moment, a brief snarl of frustration, before it settled back into a mostly neutral expression. Tony watched him warily, doing his best to keep track of all of the tentacles at once, ready to flee, cursing the fact that he had no weapon – why hadn’t he thought to bring a weapon—?
But the strange mer made no move to pursue him any further. He remained still, at the mouth of the cave, watching him with a very slight smile curving his lips, deep dark eyes glittering in the light of Tony’s lamp. But he didn’t come any closer.
Tony’s sides heaved, his gills fluttering madly, trying to catch his breath when the very water around him resisted him, fighting his very existence. How did the other mer stand it? Were they so different even in that, that the water was easy for him to breathe?
“I’ve… I’ve come for the conch and pearl!” Tony managed to gasp out, his head light and limbs heavy. “I know that you have them. I’ve come for them!” He would have said more – wanted to say more, but even that much felt as though it had sapped his strength.
The other tilted his head, looking amused. “Have you, little mer? I might ask you why you think I possess such things, why it is you think that someone such as myself might have artifacts out of legend…” He grinned, his teeth glimmering strangely in the light of Tony’s lamp, and making his entire face seem much more predatory. “But I think that would be a bit of an insult to how far you’ve come already, don’t you?”
Tony’s heart leapt in his chest. Did that mean—?
“But I’m afraid that, despite what you must have endured, I cannot simply give the conch and pearl to you. They are too powerful to be released into the world again.” He fixed Tony with a sharp stare. “They cannot be allowed free.”
Tony shook his head, ignoring the way the mer’s tentacle writhed in agitation around him, the way his dark eyes fixed on him and made him feel anchored in place. “I don’t… don’t want to let them loose into the world,” he protested, still struggling. “I only wanted… one wish from them. Just one for myself, and then I would leave them to you.”
The other mer tilted his head at Tony. “And do you think that ‘releasing’ them means only that they be taken from this place? The ancient magic need not be physically released for its influence to be felt. A single wish, a single twisting of fate, however small, would be felt throughout the seas, little mer. The ripples spread out and touch everything, whether intended or not.” The stare which he leveled upon Tony cut through him. “I am not just a guardian to keep others from finding the conch and pearl. I am the guardian left here to be certain that they never escape.”
Tony stared, and shook his head. It wasn’t true; it had to be a trick. Just another way to keep Tony from getting to the conch and pearl, keeping him from the prize he’d come to find. It was a way of getting him to give up on his quest willingly.
He wouldn’t fall for it. The wish he held in his heart was too important for that.
“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he said.
And with perhaps as much foolishness as when he’d begun his journey, Tony launched himself at the strange, tentacled mer, intending to fight his way into the cave and seek his prize.
The other grinned as Tony sped towards him, every one of his limbs rising up to meet him.
—•—
As far as fights went, it was an abysmal affair. Tony hardly touched the other mer, though in truth he hadn’t been trying all that hard to actually lay a hand on him. His main focus had been in getting by the mer and into the cave behind him, in seeking out the conch and pearl himself.
He hadn’t even gotten close.
There was no sneaking past that mass of tentacles. And the mer himself was far too fast and clever – Tony doubted that he would have had a chance even if the mer had been of the normal sort, with only two arms and a tail to contend with. He was too fast, too used to this depth, and too perceptive. Tony was driven back easily, left panting against the stones and awaiting the inevitable moment when the other decided that Tony would make an excellent meal.
But it never came. The strange mer had looked at him, smiling, like he was an amusing distraction.
“You have some spirit, young mer,” he’d said. “I think perhaps if you were to try again, you might have better luck. Still not enough, but better. Why not try again, when you can breathe without going pale round the gills?”
And he’d turned away, heading back into the cave and the shadows. Just before he’d disappeared, he’d called back, almost as an afterthought, “My name is Loki. The next time you wish to attempt this, I suggest you use it.”
And so it was that they had begun their strange little ritual. How long it had gone on, Tony wouldn’t have been able to say. It was impossible to keep track of days and nights when down this far. But he came back to the cave, again and again, attempting to get past the guardian at the mouth, to find his prize and gain his heart’s desire. Every time, he was beaten by Loki, sent back to the little place he had found where he could rest and gather his strength between the times the two of them sparred. To Tony it seemed as though every time he came back to Loki, he did a little better – just as Loki had said he would. But also just as Loki had said, it was never quite enough. It was proving impossible to sneak past the mer, to catch him unawares.
And yet he still called out to him every time he arrived at the cave mouth.
When it was that the fighting became more like sparring – with Loki giving him instruction on how better to fight opponents, or to escape them, or to sneak up on them – Tony couldn’t say. It seemed so natural as the transition was happening, that it was impossible now to go back and trace what had happened when.
The longer Tony spent in the depths, the less real things like time seemed to be. Days didn’t matter anymore. The only measurement of time which made any sort of sense, or which seemed to matter in the least, was the time between one visit and the next to the cave – the next time he would see Loki and make his attempt to get past him, to the conch and pearl. It was those times which his days revolved around, which his every waking moment was geared towards…
Similarly, Tony wouldn’t have been able to say when it was that the goal in coming to the cave had changed from making his attempt on the conch and pearl, and just about coming to see Loki.
But it had. Tony had travelled leagues to reach this place, found the resting place of artifacts considered to be mere figments from children’s stories… and now he was more interested in socializing with the guardian of his objective.
And he found that he didn’t mind the shift in the least.
—•—
One day it came that Tony was able, somehow, to press Loki back.
He’d become much more used to the depth of the water. He could breathe more easily than before, move with relative ease, and could even see a little better than he had before. And utilizing the very skills which Loki had taught him, he managed to take the mer off his guard.
From his place on the ground, Loki looked up at him with a stunned expression. And then he smiled.
“Well, I can hardly feign total surprise. You learn too well, so this day was bound to come.”
The words were weighted, much heavier than was the norm for Loki to speak to him anymore. They had developed a rapport over however long Tony had been here, and Loki had much more of a sense of humor than he would have guessed. To speak so heavily at just being knocked down was… concerning.
“What day is that?”
“The day when you begin to best me,” he said. “The first day which will lead inevitably to the one in which you best me in truth. The first day leading to the one when you leave.” Loki’s words went soft at the end, an edge of sadness to them as he looked away from Tony.
It made Tony freeze, and consider for the first time in a long time what would happen if he finally did manage to retrieve the conch and pearl. It had been such a secondary thought for so long, he’d nearly forgotten. He thought about it now, making himself consider what it would mean to have the conch and pearl in his hands… but from the point of view of its guardian. What would it mean to Loki if Tony took them?
He would have nothing left to guard, according to him, which seemed bad enough, even if none of the terrible things he seemed convinced would happen did happen…
But it would also mean that Tony would leave. He would leave this place which had become a strange sort of home, and he would be leaving Loki behind. Alone. The way he had been before, for who knew how long before Tony had come.
Alone in the depths and the dark, without even his duty as a guardian to console him.
Tony didn’t think that he would have given the feelings of the conch’s guardian much thought before, but that had been before he had met and interacted with Loki. The mer seemed perfectly stoic at first, but the truth was… he enjoyed having company. He enjoyed having someone to speak and to spar with, someone to give his days shape, just the same way Tony’s days were given shape by having Loki in them.
Tony tried to imagine what his days would be like, without Loki.
He shook his head, and swam down to where Loki was still sitting, and stared at the older mer until he looked Tony in the eye, a touch of wariness in the look.
“I’ll make you a deal, Loki, if you like,” he said, and smiled when he noticed how Loki’s eye lit up at the word ‘deal.’ “I can promise you that I will give up on my quest to retrieve the conch and pearl. Completely, with no loopholes or caveats – save only one. A trade.”
Loki’s eyes narrowed, his tentacles curling in curiosity and agitation. “And what might that payment be? For giving up something so very dear, the payment must necessarily be heavy as well.”
Tony nodded. “It is. But I think you can pay it. For giving up on the conch and pearl, with no intention to ever attempt to taking them again, I would require the payment that you allow me to stay here, and spend time with me just the way we are now – regardless of whether or not I am attempting to make it past your guard.”
Loki blinked at him, tentacles slowing considerably. “…what? Why… why would you wish to stay here, Tony? If you have not your prize, nor intend to make any attempt for it, why would you remain here? You… do not belong down so far in the dark.”
Tony attempted a smile for him, something reassuring, but he felt the expression begin to grow out of his control as he absorbed the implications of what he was about to say before he’d even said it. “See, that’s the thing. The wish. In all this time, you’ve never asked me what it was I wanted the conch and pearl for. What my heart’s desire was.”
Loki shook his head. “No. It did not seem necessary. The desires of hearts are fleeting things, despite how much mer might fight and die for them. What your desire was, was less important than simply keeping the artifacts from your hands.”
“Hmph. Well, if you had bothered asking, I would have told you.” He took a breath, the water feeling so much lighter than it had when he’d first arrived. Almost comfortable. With a little more time, it was possible…
“I would have told you that it was my heart’s desire to find some place where I belonged. Somewhere where I could express myself without censure, when I might feel as though I were valued and my thoughts listened to… it was my heart’s desire to find someone in the world whom I might spend time with and enjoy their company, and they mine. … I’d hoped that the conch and pearl might give me someone to love.”
Loki’s eyes had fixated on him, his face a mask. Tony had come to learn nearly all of Loki’s expressions, but this was none of them. It was a deliberate absence of any emotion. “And yet you would give all of that up?” he asked, his tone matching his expression. “You would give it up and remain here?”
Tony nodded. “Yes… because…” And here he reached out, and brushed away a little of the cloud of hair attempting to obscure Loki’s face, and cupped the mer’s cheek. “Because I think I have found all of those things, without ever needing to request it of the artifacts.” He smiled self-consciously. “If you’ll allow me to stay, that is. That sort of informs all of my assumptions.”
The mask which Loki had put on to guard his own emotions began to crack. His eyes widened and his lips parted, pure disbelief transforming him. “You… cannot be serious?”
Tony raised a brow at him. “I’m very serious, thank you very much. I want to stay here with you, because here I’ve found myself belonging more than I ever did where I came from. And in finding you…” He ran his tongue over his lips, the words becoming difficult, the more important they became.
“In finding you, I think I’ve found the answer to my wish even better than the conch could have done for me.”
The look on Loki’s face was a mixed one – one of shock, uncertainty, perhaps hope, the constant shifting in mood making Tony’s chest hurt with the anticipation of what he might say, of what might come of this confession…
Until he felt the very distinctive touch of Loki’s tentacles beginning to wrap around him. Tony shivered, though not from revulsion or fear. The touch of Loki’s tentacles was reassuring, strong. As Tony was slowly wrapped about in the grip of eight limbs, he felt his heart flutter like it had on the first day they had met, but for an entirely different reason.
Loki pulled Tony forward, the strength of all those limbs inexorable. “Are you certain? Are you certain that you would be happy giving up your treasure, and just staying with me?”
Tony shook his head, but in exasperation rather than denial. “I came here seeking the treasure they talk about in stories. And I found it.” He nudged his forehead against Loki’s. “It was just better hidden than I thought it was. Disguised as a strange mer, pretending to be the guardian rather than the treasure itself.”
Loki huffed. Then slowly, very slowly, brought his lips up to meet Tony’s. It was almost as though he were afraid to believe that it were real, that he were allowed to touch Tony.
Tony was less hesitant, and guided Loki, his treasure, into a deeper kiss.
And he smiled, pleased to have made it to the end of his quest, and to have gotten his wish.