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Garth swam toward the Royal Stables, letting the currents do most of the work.
The structure rose from the seabed like a cathedral-- arched ribs of coral reinforced with Atlantean stone, wide entrances open to the sea so the larger mounts could come and go as they pleased. Soft bioluminescent lights traced the pathways inside, muted and warm, meant to calm nervous creatures and tired handlers alike.
He knew this route by heart; had raced through these halls as a teenager, carefree and laughing, with Imp darting ahead of him in tight, gleeful spirals. Back then, the stables felt impossibly vast and exciting.
Now they just felt… quiet.
The stablehands nodded to him as he passed, but no one stopped him. No one asked why he was here. They didn’t need to.
Imp’s enclosure sat near the outer edge, where the currents were the gentlest and light filtered in at a soft angle. Garth slowed further as he approached, watching quietly as Imp lifted his head as he sensed him nearby.
Once, that motion had been immediate-- eager and energetic, tail already curling in anticipation. Now it was delayed, almost cautious, like every movement had to be considered first. His massive body rested against the cushioned supports, larger than most seahorses had any right to be, but still significantly thinner than he used to be. His colors were faded, scales worn smooth by time.
But still, his eyes brightened.
Garth smiled despite the cloud that hung over them, and drifted closer, resting a hand against the enclosure’s edge. “Hey, old boy,” he whispered. “Sorry I took so long. Things have gotten really busy lately. Didn't mean to spend so much time away.”
Imp made a soft sound in response-- familiar and affectionate-- but it lacked the strength it once had. He tried to lift himself so he could nudge his nose up against Garth’s arm, but failed.
“Easy,” he said, slipping inside the enclosure, and reaching around Imp’s chest before he could strain himself. “I’ve got you.”
Imp settled against him with a faint huff, displeased with his own lack of coordination. Garth grimaced as he felt the bones beneath the seahorse's skin. He was so frail now… so delicate compared to when they were both young…
Back when Imp was the one who had been the one doing the carrying.
Garth rested his forehead briefly against Imp’s neck ridge, eyes closed. For a second, the memories came unbidden-- Imp surging forward through open water, Garth clinging to his harness and laughing as the currents tore past them. Long afternoons spent racing shadows along the reef wall. The way Imp used to angle his body just right so Garth could sprawl across his back and look up at the surface, watching light fracture into dancing, glittering shapes.
Imp couldn’t do any of that anymore.
…Hadn’t been able to for a long time.
“I was thinking,” Garth said, pulling back just enough to look at him, “Maybe, we could go out today. Just for a little bit.”
Imp’s tail twitched. His eyes stayed on Garth’s face.
“There’s a reef,” he continued. “I'm sure you remember it. The one past the city with the big fan corals and the warm shallows.” His voice wavered, only slightly. “We don’t have to go fast. I can carry you.”
That earned him a weak, indignant chirr.
Garth huffed a quiet laugh. “I know, I know. Sorry.”
Still, Imp didn’t protest when Garth carefully fitted the old harness around him-- one modified so many times over the years it barely resembled the original. He didn't know exactly why he put it on; knew they wouldn't be putting it to use, but it felt important somehow.
Garth lifted him slowly, mindful of every fragile joint and tremor.
The stables faded behind them as Garth swam out into open water, Imp held tight over his shoulder. It felt wrong, carrying him like this, but Imp wasn't strong enough now to swim on his own, so it would have to do.
They moved at an easy pace, avoiding heavy currents and crowded paths, choosing open water where the light was clear and the sea shifted softly around them.
The reef emerged gradually, rising from the blue.
It was beautiful-- even more beautiful than Garth remembered. Coral bloomed in layered spirals of orange and violet, schools of fish threading through them. The water here was warmer, calmer.
Garth settled onto a smooth stone outcropping, easing down until he could sit comfortably. He adjusted his grip and guided Imp into his lap.
Imp sighed, a soft, tired sound, and laid his head against Garth’s thigh.
“There we go,” Garth whispered, fingers brushing slow, careful strokes along Imp’s fins. “Just like old times. Sort of.”
They sat together in silence for a while, the sounds and movements of the reef around them. Garth watched an anemone sway and let Imp’s weight settle more fully against him.
“You used to scare me, you know,” he said, barely above a whisper. “When you’d ride too fast. I always thought you were going to throw me off on purpose.”
Imp’s fin twitched faintly.
“And you never listened,” Garth went on, smiling sadly. “Not once.”
His throat tightened. He paused, letting the water steady him.
“You were there for everything,” he said after a moment. “From the first time you bucked me off onto a banquet table, to the other side of the earth. When I didn’t know where I belonged. When things were too loud. When Tula died, when the whole world fell apart. Through all of it.”
Imp’s breathing was shallow now. Slow.
Garth adjusted his hold without thinking, holding him closer. “Thank you, Imp,” he murmured.
Imp shifted slightly, then went still. His eyes stayed open, focused on Garth’s face, calm and unafraid.
Garth bowed his head, resting his forehead against Imp’s. His curls drifted forward, tangling briefly into the harness.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, voice breaking despite his efforts. “You can rest. I love you."
Imp’s breathing slowed.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
Garth didn’t move. He stayed there, counting heartbeats that no longer matched anything beneath his hands. The water felt colder, sharper, and he drew in a shaky breath he didn’t need.
He shut his eyes, and held Imp for a long time after that.
When he finally moved, it was with careful reverence. He laid Imp gently among the coral, arranging his body the way he used to sleep-- tail curled, fins folded close.
“You were perfect,” Garth said softly. “Sleep well.”
He lingered a moment longer, then turned away.
He let the water take him back alone.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝
