Chapter Text
"George!"
Flipping a wave of bubbles into his friend's worried face, George giggled before shooting through the water like an arrow, his tail moving powerfully behind him.
"George, I'm serious! We're going to be late, you muffin-head!"
"You're too serious, Bad, we'll be fine," George dismissed the words, flicking his tail once, twice, three times, propelling himself towards the murky shadow of the shipwreck lying straight ahead.
His satchel, hung over his shoulder securely, was light at his side, waiting to be filled with whatever goods the promising ruins held.
Like some fallen beast, it lay on its side in the midst of the darkened waters. A gaping, jagged hole opened up the side of the rotting wood and George let it swallow him whole as he swam through.
Bad, muttering nervously, followed him seconds later, his black tail gleaming like smooth obsidian in the dim light.
The cold of the waters bit through George's bare arms and he repressed a shiver. The sun's strong rays barely slipped through the water down here. It was much too far deep for the light to glitter down as it did in the Capital. George knew he should be frightened or at the very least more cautious, as Bad was, but he couldn't help the budding excitement that flourished in his chest. This was what his heart sung for and what his soul yearned for. Adventure.
Slipping through a narrow hole, George twisted his way through to an open room. Abruptly, a flash of pain struck him and he yelped, dragging his tail towards him instinctively. A few of his scales winked at him as they fell to the ground, thin wisps of blood escaping the scrape. His tail had been caught on the sharp wood of the hole. With a hiss, he delicately touched the wound.
"George?" Came Bad's hurried call, pitched up in alarm.
"I'm fine, Bad! Just a scratch," He murmured, scraping the fallen blue scales underneath the decaying remains of a cabinet. His thin, petal-like fins moved to cover the blemish as his friend came shooting through the door.
Bad, carrying a hurt look as if he had been the one injured, immediately checked George over, biting his lips between his fanged teeth.
Bad had been George's best friend since he was very young. His parents were friends with George's father, the King, and they had struck up a quick friendship upon their first meeting. Unfortunately, George reflected upon discontentedly, they hadn't been seeing much of each other in the recent weeks as George's eldest brother, Wilbur, was soon to be appointed the official title of Crown Prince and George's schedule was rapidly filled with princely duties. He had just barely managed to escape from his room (which was beginning to feel more like a prison cell) at the castle and had roped Bad into exploring the shipwreck he had stumbled upon on one of the weeks prior. No one at the castle knew he was gone, yet, and if George had his way, they'd never find out.
"Bad, Bad, leave it, I'm fine! Let's just explore this area and get back to Wilbur's thing before Dad finds out I left."
Bad frowned but moved back. George grinned in triumph as he tugged on Bad's arm, leading him to the back of the compartment.
"There!" George exclaimed, a brilliant smile flashing across his face as he pointed towards his find.
Hidden away in the back corner of the ship, upturned and wedged against the wall, was a rusted chest. Together with Bad, he hauled it upright before snapping the rusted lock off with a quick twist of his hand.
Bad snorted and George turned to him in curiosity as his friend crossed his arms. "Do I even want to know how many times you've done this by yourself?"
George grinned at that before letting out a teasing laugh. "I don't think so, Bad."
"I didn't think so either," The merman sighed before nudging George. "Let's find out what's in this thing, then."
Wasting not a second, George lifted the top of the chest, heaving it open. He let out a pleased gasp at the contents and immediately began rummaging through them.
"Look, Bad, look!" He squealed, holding up a green orb. It was gelatinous and murky, and George had the faint idea that it held a lot more power than what was imaginable. Concentrating on the orb, he could see faint sheets of purple light running over the surface, so thin they could be chalked up to his imagination.
"Gross, George, put it back." Bad crinkled his nose at the object and George scoffed as if the remark had hurt.
He tucked it into his satchel and shot a glare at his friend for good measure. Rifling through the rest of the chest, he was disappointed to find nothing but small nuggets of gold and rusted chunks of iron. "Useless," He murmured with a sigh and Bad let out a relieved breath.
"Alright, we can go now right?"
George rolled his eyes but relented. How much time had passed anyway? Surely Wilbur's ceremony had yet to start… right?
Feeling a spark of panic light in his stomach, George secured his satchel over his shoulder and tugged Bad along with him, leading his friend out of the decayed ship. They swam quickly and silently, powerful flicks of their tails guiding them to the warmer currents of the ocean. Branches of colorful coral and clouds of tropical fish-filled the sandy floors.
When the schools of fish shot away, hiding within their pockets of coral, George didn't give them a second glance. Neither of the two mentioned the slight vibrations in the water, signifying something large moving close by. Neither one of them noticed the grey masses gliding through the water either until they were right on top of them.
"George," Bad hissed and George looked up sharply. Bad's face was pale and his eyes were blown wide with shiny fear. He jerked his head to the right and George sucked in a breath.
Sharks.
How- George let out a bright curse as he glanced down at his tail. The scratch was wider than he thought, now fully visible in the light of the shallow waters. Angry and red and more importantly, bleeding, it cut through his lower tail. The blood had attracted the worst of the ocean shallows.
Suddenly, the clashing of teeth snapping together sounded out and George shoved Bad away, shooting off in the opposite direction just as a shark slashed through the space he left.
"Split up!" George cried and Bad hesitated for a second before nodding. The red scales smattering his dark fins flashed as he darted through the water, evading the sharks with his sharp movements.
Gulping, George did the same.
How could he have been so careless? Perhaps it was the frozen currents that were coming in - the calling card of a terrible storm brewing nearby. Maybe it was the prospect of freedom, of adventure that had been so impossibly alluring to him. Damnit. Whatever it was, it may have just screwed him.
Something brushed dangerously at his long fins and George bit back an alarmed scream, pulling his tail in before forcing himself to swim harder, faster.
The towering form of the royal castles came into view in the distance, beguiling in the way that they twinkled and shined, beckoning him forward. George wasn't sure if he could make it that far.
Sparing a glance back at the monstrous shark that followed him, maw gaping wide, George cursed. He had seen those powerful fins and the huge tail and instantly knew he would never be able to outswim it. There was only one way he'd make it out of this.
George shot upwards, swinging his heavy satchel over his shoulders. Gripping the worn leather, he brought the bag down on the beast's head, feeling its teeth grazing over his fins. The bag slammed down on the Shark, hitting it right between its beady, black eyes. It let out a grisly wail before retracting its humongous head - and with it, those impossibly keen teeth. Slinking away along the ocean floor, the shark disappeared into a forest of thick, twisting kelp.
An incredulous laugh escaped George's throat before he could stop it. It was a harsh, colorful noise that burst out from deep within his trembling form.
A great trumpeting sounded out from close by, and George jolted, his breath escaping him in a rush. The music continued and a great panic took over his mind as he realized what it was.
The announcement of the King.
He was late to Wilbur's ceremony.
George clutched his satchel close to his chest as he rushed through the waters, praying through clenched teeth that he'd see Bad, safe and sound within the Capital walls.
…
George slunk into his seat, trying to ignore the positively searing gaze of his father. King Philza was sat in his chariot, graciously smiling at his adoring citizens. Yet somehow, when George entered the palace as cautiously as he could, the King took notice immediately, directing an all-too-familiar, "we will talk about this later" look at his youngest son.
Seeing Bad in the crowd alleviated some of George's dread, though, as he flashed a quick thumbs up at his friend, who glared back at him. Bad wouldn't stay aggravated for long, George knew. He'd bribe him later with some goodies from his Grotto.
George's Grotto was a place solely for him. No one else but Bad knew of his secret haven, and even then, George had only taken Bad to the cavern once. The Grotto was a large underwater cave that opened up to the bare sky, and it housed all of his treasures. George had painstakingly carved out a spiral of neat shelves into the limestone walls of the cave, all to store his wonderful treasures. Bars of gold, old maps stored in glass frames, multiple blue hearts of the sea, whatever he had managed to scavenge was kept in the Grotto. It was the most special place for George, but he couldn't risk telling anyone. If his father found out he went out alone to explore human ruins and wreckages, George would be kept in the castle forever, he was sure of it.
The loud trumpeting of the royal musicians jolted George back into the present and he focused on the form of his eldest brother as he stepped down to join his father at the bottom of the courtyard.
Wilbur kneeled in front of their father, a handsome smile on his face. His emerald green tail waved behind him nervously, flicking his shimmering fins back and forth. King Philza smiled down at his eldest son graciously, exchanging a few words with him. George's mouth went dry as Wilbur's eyes flicked to his and he gave his father an understanding nod. He knew he didn’t want to know what that meant.
With that, King Philza extended his hand to Wilbur and they stood together, pride bursting from the King's wide grin.
George, ignoring his brother Eret's curious glance, slipped out of the room, which descended into lively music and flashes of multicolored scales as merman and mermaid danced together.
Making his way down to where Bad stood awkwardly by himself on the floor, George opened his mouth to call out to his friend.
Before he could grab his attention, Bad was approached by a dashing merman with darker skin and big, bright eyes. He recognized the figure as Skeppy, one of his dad's soldiers. Skeppy's turquoise tail swished happily as the two exchanged conversation and Bad laughed. The merman seemed pleased at Bad's amusement and gestured towards the crowd of twirling merfolk. George grinned as a faint blush overtook his friend's cheeks and watched as he and Bad headed out to dance.
He whistled sharply and Bad turned, his searching gaze landing on George with confusion and then wide clarity. George gestured out behind him and mimed himself swimming away before flashing his friend a cheeky grin and pointed at the turquoise-tailed merman, miming kissing. Bad shot him a disgusted glare through his quickly reddening cheeks, but an earnest look took over his face as he mouthed "be careful".
George nodded and saluted his friend briefly. Then, he turned and headed towards his Grotto, ready to drop off his new treasure.
…
Keeping a careful eye out for sharks, George made his way through the bright blue water towards the rocky caves that made up his Grotto.
A large stone block concealed the entrance to the warm cavern, and George heaved it to the side in a practiced shove.
As always, his breath left him as he gazed upon his beloved treasures. Perfectly carved emeralds, old lecterns holding onto decaying novels, a sleek iron sword shimmering purple with unknown power - they made up a fraction of the grotto's contents. Bits of gold caught the light streaming in from the open roof of the cave, reflecting the colors of the rainbow around him.
If there was something George loved more than anything, it was the vibrancy of his world. Sure, the coral surrounding his home was beautiful, but nothing beat the sun's rays bouncing off sheets of gold, streaks of silver, spots of red, orange, blue, green.
However, before George could relish in the beauty of the treasures around him, the light filtering in from the sky disappeared. Frowning, George swam up to the surface, popping out of the water.
The sky growled down at him, warning him of its bad temper. Dark clouds, almost black in their intensity, swept through the sky and the harsh winds roiled the water. George shivered in the sudden cold, knowing that it would be mere minutes before the bad weather hit the Capital and ruined the party for everyone.
Choosing to swim back to the Capital as quickly as possible, George gripped the rocky cave wall, ready to push himself down into the darkening waters.
Then, he heard the yelling.
George paused, cocking his head as he listened carefully. For a second, as he listened to the whining wind, he thought he imagined the noise. Then, the shouts sounded out louder, getting closer.
Curiosity was a gaping hole in his chest, aching to be sated, and George succumbed to the yearning.
Plunging down into the waters, he carefully exited his Grotto, throwing his bag behind a rocky section of the cave. He'd retrieve it later, he reasoned, after the storm had passed on through.
Swimming through the water, George's eyes bugged out of his head as he saw the massive shadow of some great beast swimming towards him. It outsized any shark or ocean creature he had ever seen. He had heard tales of enormous creatures called whales from Wilbur and Eret, but he knew they didn't come so early in the year.
Against his better judgment, George propelled himself upwards with his arms, tearing at the water around him.
He emerged from the depths, shaking his hair out of his eyes to see the beast in front of him.
Words escaped his thoughts as he took in the harrowing sight.
A ship - much like the very ones he had explored all his life - rocked precariously in the waters. Men with two fins - humans! George realized with a shock - clung desperately to the ropes hanging off the ship, many screaming as they were tossed to and fro, barely keeping away from the hungry waves.
George peered up at the ship and his eyes widened as he saw a cloaked figure scaling the ship's mast. What was he thinking? He would surely be tossed overboard by the raging winds, and George wasn't sure that humans were good swimmers.
The cloaked man stopped halfway up the mast, looping a long length of rope around the thick wood once, twice, before knotting it off quickly and securely. Coiling it around their arm, the figure tugged on it sharply before turning around, now facing George.
The human wore a strange white mask - one that covered his entire face. Through the heavy sheets of rain pouring down on him, George could barely make out a simple smiley face decorating the mask. Then, before he could make any further observations, the man leaped from the mast.
George let out a strangled cry at the absurdity of his actions, but it faded quickly into shocked admiration. The man swung from the rope, shooting past the sailors clinging to the ropes. With his free hand, he grabbed men and flung them overboard. With every pass that he made, more and more men were saved.
Until, George realized with wide eyes, there was only one man left.
The masked man kicked off of the mast, swinging down low to grab the remaining sailor. He missed by what looked like fractions and George found himself wincing.
The lone sailor, gripping white-knuckled onto the ship's fraying ropes, yelled something at the masked man, who seemingly ignored him, swinging back towards the man.
This time, they grabbed onto each other and swung back up onto the ship, shakily righting themselves. The saved man - a tall figure with scruffy dark hair held back by a white bandanna whipping wildly in the wind - laughed openly, turning to the masked man with an adrenaline-crazed grin.
The masked man gripped the other's arms securely, but as the tide swept back once more, George knew what was about to happen.
"Watch out!" He screamed before he could stop himself, and the masked man snapped his face to George's.
Then, the wave hit the boat and he was slammed overboard.
"Dream!" The black-haired man screamed, reaching out for the man.
But he was too late, and the masked man - Dream - was already flipping into the relentless waves, dragged down and thrashed around like a ragdoll.
And before he knew what he was doing, George was plunging down into the torrent, his hands searching the wild currents blindly for a billowing cloak and a strange, white mask.
Groaning as he felt nothing but the frozen water of the ocean, George pushed himself further down, forcing his eyes open for a sight of anything.
There. To his right.
A white glimmer.
An uncertain smile on a snowy surface, beckoning him forward.
George swam with speed he didn’t know he possessed, cutting through the ocean like a blade forged from diamonds.
His fists closed around something heavy and George pulled with all his might, dragging the body as best he could as the currents tossed him around. He broke the water with a broken gasp, coughing wetly as his lungs burned for him to catch his breath.
Not daring to look at the limp weight in his hands, George gripped onto the damp cloak tighter, spotting a faint smear of land on the horizon.
His shoulders screamed at him and his breaths came out in tortured huffs, but George fought his way to the shallow sands. The smattering of rain pelting down was now a hazy, pitiful shower.
Shivering in the mist, George shoved the man onto the sand as best he could in his exhausted state. Feeling the strength seep out of him like a ship sinking in water, he slumped over the man - Dream, he recalled faintly - and coughed harshly.
The body under him shivered and George exhaled loudly. Okay, so not dead. That was a relief.
He looked down at the man and his eyes widened when he saw his bare face. The white smiley mask had long since been lost to the ocean's wrath, penance for his life, George thought numbly.
His eyes trailed over the man's face, over his strong jaw and freckled cheeks, the slope of his nose, and the light eyelashes that grazed his cheeks as they fluttered restlessly. He was breathtaking, George thought, his brain fizzling out. How unfair it was that such a gorgeous face was confined to the land, so far from him.
The man groaned suddenly, seawater gurgling in his throat as he turned and hacked miserably on the sodden, grey sand. George jerked back, suddenly very aware of his predicament. He glanced back at his sapphire tail, peeking out of the water, and swore, pushing himself back into the water with a heavy crash. If his father found out he was with a human, he would never hear the end of it. King Philza would be furious .
Ever since he was a young boy, George had listened eagerly to the legends of man and mer. The details were hazy, but most could agree on the following version.
Once upon a time, man and mer had lived in harmony, exchanging knowledge and friendship like simple gifts. However, the humans had grown steadily greedy, and all too soon, fights had broken out. Knowing that the merfolk would never stand a chance against their bloodthirsty counterparts, the King of that time had sealed the borders of the sea. He summoned ruthless hurricanes and tidal waves, sinking the kingdom down to the bottom of the secluded sea all while keeping the humans away. All contact between man and merfolk would be terminated.
Many took this as a cautionary tale - a warning, to keep far, far away from the creatures that lived above them.
To George, these stories only sparked an insatiable curiosity.
George surfaced from the water, his winding cerulean tail hidden in the murky waves. The storm had stirred up sand from deep on the ocean floor, turning the water from a sparkling diamond to smoky darkness.
He heard a sharp intake of breath and froze. Looking up, he was met with the confused face of the man, now sat up and coherent. George froze under the intensity of his eyes, the heat of his stare.
"Who are-"
George turned and dove into the water, his heart ramming up against his ribcage furiously.
Idiot, you've been seen
, a voice in his head scolded him as he ripped through the waters, thankful for the adrenaline thrumming through his exhausted body.
Idiot
, the voice muttered as his heart fluttered at the memory of the man's handsome face.
You liked it.