Work Text:
Night had fallen, but the air was still warm on Gladiolus’ skin. Particularly so, given the attire he was expected to wear for the upcoming occasion. He’d been tasked with changing out of his recreational attire – shorts and a tank top – to a more formal uniform. It was equipped with long sleeves and heavier material better intended for the windy seas.
Not that he and his father were going out on a ship, as he’d originally assumed. Clarus led him away from the docks and the fleet of vessels for the Crowsnguard that he oversaw. Instead, he traveled along the coastline. The longer they walked, the greater Gladiolus’ curiosity became. It was getting harder for him not to inquire where they were going.
To maintain the professional air his father gave off, Gladiolus tried to distract himself by observing their surroundings closer. The rocky beaches of the mainland started to give way to coarser sand, the bits of shell and pebbles crunching under their boots. A cusp of trees lined their right side and blocked their home from view as they reached an inlet.
It was beautiful, though he knew the scenery couldn’t be why they’d come to this remote location. Gladiolus stared out over the water as the last rays of light shaded the water in navy blue shadows and muted yellows. Then he glanced at his father, who remained looking out over the bay.
“You will be joining the guard soon,” Clarus said. His tone formed the words into fact rather than a question. Gladiolus certainly didn’t refute his father’s claims. On his own, he’d already spoken to recruitment officers and gathered the necessary paperwork to apply like all the men coming of age like himself. It’d been expected of Gladiolus since his birth, and he saw no point in delaying the inevitable. “And with that, so, too, will your responsibilities grow.”
“I figured as much,” Gladiolus said, as good a declaration of ‘I’m ready’ as he could get without sounding bored. He’d been prepared, quickly outranking his classmates in both academics and prowess as young as ten-years-old. Gladiolus had already been leading most of them in their exercises for the past six months in want for a greater challenge.
His words must have conveyed a little too much arrogance, however. Clarus inclined his head, one eyebrow raised in clear indication, but what was more disturbing was the upturn of his father’s lip. Whenever he smirked like that, Gladiolus knew he was in for a surprise.
“You are familiar with the merfolk of this region, correct?” his fathered asked.
“Sure,” Gladiolus said. He sounded the word out slowly as he raised his defenses. Everyone knew about the sea dwellers. They secured the kingdom’s oceans, the merfolk’s king most of all, as it was his barrier that allowed for clear weather and safe waters. And in turn the people who depended on them offered protection; the Amicitia family in particular was indebted. They had served closest for generations, defending them from the pirates of the south.
Not that Gladiolus had actually met one of the creatures in question. He’d only seen them from a distance, whenever they were tasked with a joint venture of sorts. Otherwise they kept to themselves. Gladiolus had never understood why that was, but it wasn’t his place to question the separatist tradition.
His father said nothing more as he retrieved the lantern tethered to his hip and lit it. He kneeled, the water lapping at his pant legs. Gladiolus remained standing at his back, but he couldn’t help peering around his father’s shoulders. For a drawn out beat all he saw was Clarus’ reflection and the fireflies dancing across the water as the bugs came out of their burrows for the night.
Although, some of the images didn’t…look quite right. There were some soft hues that were more blue or green than what the fireflies emitted. Frowning, Gladiolus squinted and pressed closer to his father to get a better look.
He could have sworn the mirrored images weren’t even moving correctly, and it had nothing to do with the waves lapping at the beach. When one of the patches of light came closer, became clearer, Gladiolus startled upright. It dawned on him that he wasn’t seeing reflections at all.
A human face and torso outlined in fluorescent patterns like filigrees breached the surface. The merman was older, resembling his father, but with a longer, grayer beard. His tailfin might have been silver to match, but with only their lantern and the merfolk’s own natural radiance to go on it was difficult to tell. A crown made out of dark corral decorated half his temple and blended into his hair.
“King Regis,” his father greeted, bowing his head and placing a fist over his heart. The merman returned the nod, then looked expectantly (or maybe curiously) at Gladiolus, who hurried to repeat the same gesture as Clarus.
The two men clasped elbows. Gladiolus was intrigued to notice that the king’s limb were also covered in scales, the protection coating the top of his arm like armored plating. His hand tapered into vicious looking claws with webbing between the fingers. The sharp points came nowhere near nicking his father’s skin, though.
“My friend, it’s a pleasure to finally introduce you to my firstborn, Gladiolus Amicitia,” Clarus said.
“Yes, I think I see the resemblance,” Regis intoned, there perhaps a bit of humor. Gladiolus wasn’t sure what he’d expected the merman to sound like, but the deep, commanding voice took him a bit by surprise. He’d been told of the other sea dwellers beyond the king’s magical barrier – the pale sirens of Tenebrea or the naiads of Altissia. He knew the ones that lived here were unique, but all the same he felt ill-prepared.
The king motioned Gladiolus closer and said, “Come, let me get a good look at you.”
Glancing at his father for permission and receiving a nod of approval, Gladiolus stepped forward to kneel in front of the king. Regis took him by the face. His hands were cool to the touch, but thankfully not slimy like he’d feared they might be. The king just held him still, staring into Gladiolus’ eyes with his own glowing ones.
Then he cracked a smile, or so Gladiolus assumed he did as there were more razor-sharp teeth than anything else. Regis said something in a language he didn’t understand, then nodded and released him. Gladiolus’ father looked pleased, so whatever test that had been, Gladiolus figured he must have passed muster.
“You come from a long and esteemed line of Shields, young Gladiolus. Your father has been a strong guardian, a closer confidant, and my steadfast companion,” Regis said. It wasn’t anything Gladiolus couldn’t have figured out on his own, considering his father’s track record even amongst their people. He sent his father a proud glance of his own, but when he turned back Regis was motioning to someone in the distance. “It is my hope that you will be the same for my son, as well.”
Belatedly, and perhaps a tad ashamedly, Gladiolus realized there were more merfolk lurking in the distance. He should have noticed their presence right after identifying the king, although Gladiolus wasn’t much afraid of the company. Still, he made a mental note to improve upon such skills for the future.
Underneath the water, one of the creatures broke off from the rest of the group and swam towards them. A pair of eyes, so deep a blue that their radiance was almost nonexistent, peeked above the surface. They were too wide for the little boy’s small head and it was difficult for Gladiolus to keep from laughing at the sight. The merboy didn’t come nearer than Regis’ side until the king’s mighty tail nudged him further toward the shore.
“Lord Gladiolus, this is my heir to the Lucian dynasty, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”
“Hello, your majesty,” Gladiolus said, when it became obvious Noctis wasn’t about to partake in their introductions. He’d been given no direction on how best to make his acquaintance and, figuring it for another test, Gladiolus refrained from reaching out to the merboy yet. Instead, he bowed his head and placed a fist against his chest the same way he’d done earlier. “I’m glad we get to meet.”
Noctis remained silent and still, his body curled against the dip of his father’s tail in obvious discomfort. Gladiolus tried another tactic. “My name is Gladiolus, but my family and friends call me Gladio. You can, too, if you want. Do you mind if I call you Noct?”
For his efforts, Gladiolus received a spray of water to the face. His eyes barely snapped shut in time to prevent the combination of spit and seawater from getting in them. At least he hadn’t sputtered or fallen on his ass with royal witnesses. Gladiolus crouched there with his eyes closed in momentary disbelief, then opened them to twin looks of shock from both their parents.
Regis reprimanded Noctis with words that were all hisses and snaps of his teeth, but in the time Gladiolus had recovered from the insult Noctis had ducked below the water’s surface and slunk away. There wasn’t even a ripple in the waves to show for his previous attendance.
The king looked ruefully back at him and said, “My apologies for his poor behavior. That was no way for a future ruler to behave. I assure you that I will have a word with him.”
“No need,” Gladiolus said, his tone anything but sincere. It probably showed, but he didn’t care as he wiped his face clean with a sleeve.
“My son is still young and prone to childish whims,” Regis continued. Gladiolus forgot all about his face and focused on the king as his tone bespoke of sudden importance. “And I’m afraid I must ask of you to show him the way of things, in the coming years. May I count on you to uphold this difficult undertaking?”
Gladiolus didn’t have to see his father for guidance this time. There wasn’t a challenge in existence that Gladiolus hadn’t faced head on, and this would be no different. He held out his arm and offered it to the king, who accepted the gesture by gripping him by the elbow.
“I will. You have my word.”