Archive of Our Own

💜

A light rain tittered sporadically against the tall palace windows. 

The council chamber smelled faintly of wet parchment and candle smoke. Advisors lined both sides of the long table, dressed in dark embroidered coats with stacks of documents spread before them. At the head sat the King of this land, weary-eyed and tense. 

Beside him stood the Prince, perfectly composed—perfectly silent. He kept his hands folded neatly behind his back while the council argued around him as though he were not even there. 

“The western ports continue asking about the succession of this kingdom”

Another Advisor sighed heavily. “They are not the only ones.”

The King’s jaw tightened. “My son is standing right here.” A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. 

No one apologized.

The Prince stared ahead calmly, though he could already feel the familiar heaviness settling in his chest. 

“No disrespect is intended, Your Majesty,” an Advisor finally said. 

It always began that way, with no disrespect. And it always ended with the same conclusion. 

The same Advisor folded his hands carefully, “But concern among the people is growing.”

The Prince’s expression remained neutral, for years of court had taught him how to hide hurt gracefully. 

“The neighboring kingdoms expect strength from the crown.”

“A ruler must command attention.”

Another pause, then quietly, “The Prince cannot even address his own court.”

The room fell still, and Y/n slowly lowered his gaze to the polished table surface. Not because the words surprised him, but because they did not. 

The King exhaled sharply through his nose, “My son is intelligent, educated, and more than capable of leadership.”

“No one doubts the Prince’s intelligence.” A lie. “But diplomacy depends heavily upon speech. Public confidence does as well.”

Y/n’s fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to respond; he wanted to tell them they never listened long enough to understand him in the first place. 

Instead, he carefully raised his hands, his fingers forming intricate gestures that no one outside of his family and close attendants bothered to learn. 

I can still lead, he signed. 

Several council members exchanged uncertain looks, and one younger servant verbally interpreted his words. 

“His Highness says. . .he wishes to help the kingdom prosper.”

Y/n froze; that wasn’t what he said. It wasn’t even close.

His hands slowly lowered again, and the Advisors carried on as though nothing had happened.

“The people already whisper that the gods cursed the royal bloodline.”

The King slammed a hand against the table hard enough to make the candles shake. “That is enough,” he declared, and silence crashed over the room. 

Y/n stared at the flickering candlelight instead of anyone’s faces. 

Cursed. He had heard the word his entire life, ever since the day he was born. 

The palace servants still whispered about it sometimes: how strangely quiet the bedchambers were after a successful birth. 

No screaming.

No crying.

Only silence.

The physicians had panicked first, yet the Queen had not. 

According to the old nursemaids, she had simply held the newborn Prince against her chest and whispered illegibly to him. 

Prince Y/n had listened, but the kingdom had not bothered to in return. 

“Your Majesty. . .we merely wish to ensure stability,” an Advisor from the East offered anxiously. 

The King rubbed tiredly at his temple, and his age portrayed itself in the action. He was more worn down by responsibility than the Prince remembered from childhood. 

“The matter is closed.” The dismissal was immediate. The council members reluctantly gathered their papers and stood. Chairs scraped loudly against stone floors, and Y/n remained motionless beside the throne while nobles filed past him.

Some bowed politely. Others barely acknowledged him. One Advisor muttered quietly to another as they passed, too quiet for most to hear. 

But not too quiet for the Prince. 

“A silent king,” he mused; a humorless laugh followed. “What a terrifying thought.”

The Prince stared ahead blankly until the chamber doors shut behind the last councilmen. Only then did he finally move. 

“They mean well,” The King said. 

Y/n almost laughed at that. Instead, he signed carefully. They mean loudly. 

The King’s shoulders visibly tightened, and for a moment, guilt crossed his face before exhaustion swallowed it again. “You know what is expected of you,” is all he said. 

Y/n looked down at his hands; hands that knew four languages in sign; hands that wrote beautifully; hands that had learned how to communicate despite a world determined not to understand him.

And somehow, none of it ever seemed enough. 

The Prince signed again, slower this time. Does anyone care what I want?

The King hesitated too long, and that was answer enough. 

Without another flourish, Y/n left the decadent council room. 

💜

The library was the quietest place in the palace, and that was why Y/n loved it so much. 

No court politics, no awkward silences stretched across banquet tables, no strained pity hidden behind noble smiles.

Only books, stories, and the distant sound of the ocean beyond the cliffs. 

Y/n sat curled beside the massive window overlooking the sea, a leather-bound journal resting open in his lap. His fingers moved absently across the page, not writing but tracing. Outside, gray waves crashed violently against the rocks below, the sound resonant.

Y/n was always drawn to it in a way he could never fully explain. Sometimes he thought the sea understood loneliness better than people did.

The library doors creaked softly open behind him as the Queen entered quietly, carrying a small silver tray with tea balanced carefully atop it. 

Unlike most people in the palace, she did not announce herself. She simply sat beside him, and Y/n smiled faintly. 

His mother gently nudged the tea towards him. You disappeared after the meeting, she signed. 

The servants learned sign language because they had to, but Y/n’s mother and father took it upon themselves to teach themselves the art of speaking with gestures. Y/n’s mother more so, for she was the one who helped him when he first started learning sign and was the one who encouraged learning multiple languages.

Y/n looked back toward the ocean. I was not needed there. 

The Queen’s expression saddened. “That is not true,” she said, gaining the Prince’s attention again. He gave her a look that clearly said otherwise, and she sighed softly. The court fears what it does not understand. 

They do understand. Y/n’s hands slowed; they understand that I am inconvenient. 

The Queen brushed a hand under Y/n’s chin, forcing him to look at her as she signed, You are not a burden. 

Y/n puffed air past his lips, Father wishes I were different. 

His Mother’s silence lingered just slightly too long. Not because she agreed, but because she did not know how to deny it without lying. 

Y/n smiled despite himself, a sad sort of acceptance. You don’t have to protect me from the truth, he told her. 

The Queen’s eyes softened painfully. When you were born, the physicians thought something was wrong because you did not cry. She smiled faintly, But you looked at everything so carefully. Even then. 

Her fingers brushed gently through his hair. “You were listening,” she comforted, her voice as soothing as a lullaby. “You were always listening.” Her hands reached Y/n’s, wrapping them around his in an embrace. “The kingdom only hears noise. They mistake loudness for strength.” Her grip tightened around his, her voice lowering. “But there is strength in gentleness too.”

The Prince looked away quickly toward the sea again because if he looked at her any longer, he might cry. After a long silence, he finally signed: I wish I could leave.

The Queen did not react immediately. Outside, the waves rolled endlessly beneath dark clouds. She followed his gaze toward the ocean. “You’ve loved the sea ever since you were little.”

Y/n smiled faintly. It listens, he reasoned. 

The Queen looked at him carefully, then, as if she understood something terrifying. 

Not that he loved the sea, but that one day, he might love it enough not to come back. 

💜

The storm arrived fully by nightfall. 

Rain lashed against the cliffs in violent waves while thunder echoed across the kingdom. 

Most of the palace had retreated indoors hours ago, yet the prince slipped away anyway, barefoot and alone. 

The shoreline stretched endlessly beneath the dark sky, illuminated only by flashes of lightning. 

The Prince stepped into the freezing surf without hesitation. Water curled around his ankles, then his knees. Wind whipped savagely through his clothes and hair, but for the first time all day, he could breathe. 

Out here, nobody expected him to speak. Nobody stared at him with disappointment hidden behind polite smiles.

The sea wanted nothing from him.

Another wave crashed harder this time. Y/n laughed silently under his breath, closing his eyes against the rain. 

Then the ocean suddenly shifted, and the next wave slammed into Y/n hard enough to knock him off his feet. 

The Prince gasped soundlessly as freezing water dragged him beneath the surface. His head stuck something sharp, and darkness blurred around the edges of his vision. 

The current pulled harder, relentless. Y/n fought upward desperately, but the sea no longer felt gentle; it felt alive, angry. 

A massive wave crashed over him again, forcing seawater into his lungs. Panic surged furiously through him, and he could no longer tell which direction was up. Everything became darkness and foam and freezing cold—

Until suddenly, something wrapped around his waist. Strong, smooth, inhuman. 

Y/n’s blurred vision caught only fragments beneath the water: glowing eyes, dark violet appendages curling around him protectively, jewelry glimmering faintly in the dark sea, and warmth. Arms pulled him close, and the terrifying ocean finally stopped being cruel. 

He blacked out and only came to again with the sound of crashing waves and distant shouting. 

Cold sand clung to his skin, and everything hurt. His entire body ached with a deep heaviness that made even breathing painful. Bruises bloomed dark beneath soaked fabric, and seawater burned in his lungs as he coughed up remnants of its assault. 

For several long moments, he simply lay there staring at the pale morning sky. 

He was alive. 

A sharp voice cut through the haze. “Your Highness!” 

Footsteps pounded across wet sand as several palace servants rushed toward him in visible panic, cloaks whipping violently in the lingering storm winds. 

One dropped to her knees beside the Prince. “Gods above!”

Another grabbed his shoulders carefully. “We have to get him back to the palace immediately.”

Y/n barely heard them, his gaze now fixated on the ocean as he was shifted to a sitting position. 

His memory came only in fragments: freezing water, darkness, something wrapping around him. . .and eyes. Sharp, glowing eyes beneath the sea. 

The Prince’s breathing slowed; someone had saved him. 

“Can you stand?” A servant carefully supported Y/n, and the Prince winced faintly as he tried to bring himself upright. His hand instinctively caught around the servant’s wrist before suddenly stopping. 

There, wrapped delicately around his wrist, was a bracelet. It had a simple design with minuscule pearls decorating the circumference, and it had a single charm: a smooth, deep blue shell, beautifully polished by the tide. 

Y/n stared at it, but was forced out of his mind by another servant. “Your Highness?” 

Y/n tore his gaze from the bracelet, looking back toward the sea again. The horizon was empty, but for one brief second, he thought he saw movement beneath the waves.

Dark violet disappearing into deeper water, gone before he could be certain. 

💜

The royal physician hovered nearby while servants changed bandages along the Prince’s bruised arms. 

The Queen stood beside the bed, pale with exhaustion. “You could have died,” she said, pained with fear. 

Y/n lowered his eyes apologetically. I’m sorry, he signed slowly. His mother brushed damp hair away from his forehead. “When they told us you were missing. . .” Y/n noticed her hands were shaking, and he gently reached for them, squeezing her reassuringly once.

Someone saved me, he told her. 

The Queen frowned. “A fisherman?”

The Prince hesitated, the memory blurred frustratingly in his mind. He remembered arms around him, cold water, jewelry glimmering in darkness, and eyes unlike any he had ever seen before. 

I don’t know, he eventually said. 

His mother sighed softly. “You struck your head badly; don’t force yourself to remember.”

But Y/n could not stop thinking about it; about the figure beneath the water; about the strange feeling of safety in the middle of the storm. 

About the fact that someone had reached for him—chosen to save him. 

“Rest, please.” The Queen leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss against her son’s forehead, hugging him for a few seconds before beckoning for the servants to leave. She was hesitant herself to leave, but Y/n offered her a gentle smile.

She returned it, albeit worryingly, and left. 

Y/n had intended to sleep. Truly, he had, but he just couldn’t. Hours passed, and moonlight now spilled through the palace windows as he wandered quietly through empty halls, the blue shell attached to his new bracelet turning slowly between his fingers. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw glimpses again of deep violet. 

The Prince stopped beside a window overlooking the sea cliffs. Far below, waves crashed endlessly against stone. 

He pressed his palm lightly against the glass, and his lips shaped into delicate words that the world would never hear. Who are you?

The ocean outside did not answer, yet still, something inside the Prince pulled him toward it. 

💜

The Prince returned to the beach two days later, right before sunrise. No guards, no servants, only him and the sea. The tide rolled gently against the shore as he searched the coastline carefully.

He was not entirely certain what he expected to find. Footprints, perhaps, another shell? A sign. 

Instead, there was only ocean mist and gull cries overhead.

Y/n stood at the water’s edge for a long time, watching, waiting. Then slowly, he signed toward the waves. Thank you. 

Nothing happened, yet the Prince still smiled. Because somehow, speaking toward the sea felt less foolish than speaking toward people. 

Visiting the sea on his lonesome became a habit now. He would slip away from his duties just to walk upon the shoreline. 

He would sit on rocks with books untouched in his lap while staring at the horizon. 

He would walk barefoot through shallow waves at dusk, searching through tide pools for another shell.

He would see brief movements beneath the surface, only for them to vanish immediately.

He would hear servants whisper about his “strange obsession” with the coastline.

He would ignore them entirely. 

He could not, however, ignore a diplomatic dinner. 

The Prince barely touched his food as his father spoke with diplomats, as nobles filled the hall with meaningless chatter. 

Instead, his attention drifted constantly toward the tall windows overlooking the dark ocean outside. 

The Queen noticed immediately. “You’ve been distracted for days,” she interrupted, forcing Y/n to tear his eyes away from the sea. I keep thinking about the storm, he explained loosely. 

Across the table, the King noticed their conversation. “What are you discussing?” His voice caught the attention of many people, and Y/n resisted the urge to shrink into himself. 

His mother answered her husband gently, and the King’s expression hardened. “You will stay away from the shoreline for a while.” Y/n frowned, but his father continued. “You were nearly killed.”

Something saved me, he signed quickly. 

“You were fortunate. Nothing more.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened. As he attempted to sign another explanation, the King cut him off. “No more wandering near the sea alone.” His voice was stern, leaving no room for discussion. The nobles of the room whispered among themselves, pretending not to focus on the King and Prince, but their attempts were superfluous, and Y/n was used to being talked about. 

Y/n’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the windows again; toward the waves illuminating silver beneath moonlight. 

And still, despite all the stern words, Y/n found himself at the dock the very same night. 

Mist rolled thickly across the harbor while fishing boats rocked gently against their moorings. Most of the kingdom still slept, the palace windows distant and dim atop the cliffs. 

The Prince preferred it that, with no one watching him with quiet concern every time he glanced toward the sea. 

He moved carefully between the docks until he reached a small sailboat ride near the edge of the pier. It was one of the palace’s fishermen’s vessels, a modest little thing, light enough for one person to manage alone. 

Y/n loosened the ropes with practiced ease, for this wasn’t the first time he had stolen away to the ocean. Still, this would be the first time he had gone this far intentionally.

As the boat drifted quietly from the harbor, Y/n glanced once toward the palace towering above the cliffs. He turned away.

The sea stretched endlessly before him, dark blue beneath the waking dawn. Somewhere beneath it would be the person who saved him. 

The hours passed quietly as the Prince drifted farther from the kingdom than he ever had before. 

The shoreline had become little more than a blur in the distance, and wind curled softly through his hair while waves rocked the small boat in a slow rhythm beneath him. 

Peaceful. 

Y/n sat near the edge of the boat with the polished bracelet turning between his fingers again. His gaze remained fixed on the water—searching, always searching. 

Sometimes he wondered if he had imagined the entire thing. Perhaps he had struck her head harder than anyone realized; perhaps there had been no glowing eyes beneath the storm. No arms pulling him safely ashore; no figure watching him from beneath the waves afterward. 

But then he saw movement, and the Prince froze. 

Something dark slipped beneath the water several feet from the boat, fast and smooth, far too large to be a fish. 

Y/n stood abruptly, watching as another flash bloomed beneath the surface.

Deep violet.

His heart slammed violently against his ribs, and Y/n moved toward the edge of the boat, staring into the water desperately. 

There, again, a glimpse of dark appendages vanished beneath the sea. 

The Prince barely hesitated before he jumped.

Freezing water swallowed him instantly. Y/n surfaced quickly, shoving wet hair from his face while searching around him, only to find nothing but rippling clear water stretched endlessly beneath the dark night. 

He turned slowly in place, and a shadow moved beneath him. 

Suddenly, something wrapped tightly around his ankle, and Y/n jolted vehemently before being yanked downward. 

The ocean blurred around him as he was dragged through underwater stone arches and narrow passageways hidden beneath the cliffs. Y/n grabbed desperately at smooth rock walls as he was pulled deeper into the darkness. 

Then brusquely: air. 

The Prince was lifted out of the water and hit solid ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Water splashed across stone as he scrambled upright, coughing up saltwater. 

The cave around him glowed faintly blue. Bioluminescent plants climbed along jagged rock walls, casting shimmering light across piles of scattered treasures. All around the ledge, Y/n now sat were jewels: pearls, gold, and even shipwreck remnants. 

And between him and the cave entrance was another figure. Tall and sharp-eyed, beautiful in an almost dangerous way. 

Dark purple tentacles curled slowly beneath him where legs should have been, their surfaces gleaming faintly beneath the cave light. Jewelry glimmered across elegant fingers and pointed ears. 

Y/n’s breath caught as he met the eyes of the creature. It was the same eyes from the storm, watching him carefully now.

Cold and suspicious, the figure crossed his arms. “You humans are remarkably determined to drown yourselves.” His voice was intimidating and resonant, yet the Prince continued to stare at the figure without fright. 

The creature narrowed his eyes. “Well?” he beckoned. 

Y/n blinked slowly, still staring. The other’s expression shifted toward irritation. “You leapt directly into unfamiliar waters chasing something you barely saw.” His tentacles curled sharply against the cave floor. “That is either bravery or catastrophic stupidity.” 

Y/n suddenly smiled, small yet relieved. The Merman looked unsettled by the reaction. “. . . Why are you smiling?” he asked, utterly confused. 

The Prince raised his hands. It was you, he signed, and the creature frowned faintly. 

You saved me. The Merman’s gaze flickered downward toward Y/n’s moving hands, recognition crossing his face. He understood what he was signing, yet his expression hardened just as quickly. 

“You should not have come looking for me,” he said harshly. 

Y/n pushed himself off the ledge, the water rising to his chest, as he started a slow approach toward the Merman. 

The sea creature immediately backed Y/n against the cave wall with startling speed. Tentacles blocked the only visible exit, large and intimidating. 

The creature leaned down, eyes sharp. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this ocean is?”

Y/n looked directly at him, completely calm as the creature continued. “There are countless things far crueler than storms beneath these waters.” One of his appendages slid against the stone beside the Prince’s shoulder with enough force to crack the rock. “And if you continue wandering out here alone, eventually something will kill you.” 

Y/n’s gaze drifted briefly toward the cracked stone, then back to the Merman’s face, unimpressed. 

Most humans would have been terrified by now. Instead, the Prince reached toward his wrist, taking off the bracelet and gently handing it out to the beautiful creature in front of him. You left this, he said, and the Merman froze. 

Y/n’s expression softened. I wanted to thank you. 

The man stared at the Prince for several long seconds, confused and guarded as though kindness itself unsettled him more than fear ever could. “You are very strange,” he eventually said. 

Y/n merely smiled, this time warmer. So I’ve been told, he said amusedly. 

The Merman visibly faltered for half a second before quickly recovering. “That was not intended as a compliment.” he glared. 

Y/n tilted his head. I think it sounded like one. 

The creature stared at him, then, unexpectedly, a quiet laugh escaped him. It was brief, like he had not meant to let it happen. 

Y/n’s chest tightened strangely at the sound, and the Merman seemed to realize it too because his expression immediately sharpened again. “You still need to leave,” he demanded. “The sea is not safe for humans at this hour,” he explained upon seeing Y/n’s frown. 

The Prince glanced around the glowing cave, then back toward the Merman. You saved me twice already, he signed. 

The creature opened his mouth to refute, then stopped because somehow, irritatingly, this human was right. 

And judging by the look in the human’s eyes now, this would not be the last time the two interacted. 

💜

For the first time in years, Y/n looked forward to waking up. The realization struck him quietly while sunlight spilled through his bedroom curtains and servants prepared him for another day of court obligations.

Normally, mornings felt heavy—predictable. Another endless cycle of polite disappointment and whispered concerns.

But now, somewhere beneath the ocean, someone waited who looked at him directly when he signed. 

Someone outside of his family who understood him immediately, who had laughed at him. 

He had found himself smiling absentmindedly during breakfast, something the Queen noticed at once. 

You seem happier, she signed, and Y/n nearly choked on his tea. His mother laughed under her breath. There it is again, she noted. 

Y/n looked away quickly, embarrassed. What? he asked. 

She pointed at him, that expression. She tilted her head then, You look as though you’re keeping a secret. 

Y/n’s ears warmed instantly.

Fortunately, the King entered before she could press further.

Unfortunately, that only made Y/n want to leave faster. 

He had to shoulder an entire day of listless studying, diplomatic meetings where no one batted an eye at him, and wandering around the palace doing absolutely nothing before he had a chance to return to the docks unnoticed, grabbing that same fisherman boat, and sailing off toward the cave that harbored the most beautiful creature alive. 

Y/n stood at the edge of the boat, pausing as he stared into the dark waters below. 

He felt nervous, which he found ridiculous. Yet somehow the thought of seeing his savior again made his chest tighten impeccably more. 

He inhaled slowly before diving beneath the waves. When he emerged, he was back in the cave. 

Soft blue light reflected across the water while distant waves echoed through the stone corridors. He surfaced carefully near the ledge inside the cave before a tentacle wrapped around his wrist. 

Y/n startled before being yanked sharply to the side. 

“You truly learned nothing from last time.” Y/n stumbled slightly as the creature pulled him closer, close enough now for the Prince to notice the exhaustion beneath the Merman’s sharp expression, as if he had been worried. 

The thought made warmth bloom unexpectedly in Y/n’s chest. 

The Merman crossed his arms. “If you continue appearing here unannounced, eventually I may decide to eat you.” 

The Prince blinked. You won’t, he signed slowly. The creature narrowed his eyes at that, “And what makes you so confident?”

Y/n smiled faintly. You saved me twice. 

The Merman visibly faltered at that. Y/n was beginning to suspect that it happened often around kind words. 

Y/n carefully reached into his coat before pulling out a velvet pouch. The Merman tensed. “What is that?” he questioned warily. 

Y/n stepped closer before opening the pouch carefully. Inside rested a silver necklace strung with polished sea glass and a deep blue gemstone. Simple, but beautiful. 

The Prince held it out toward him. A thank you, he offered. 

The creature stared at the necklace, then at Y/n. Suspicion slowly shifted into genuine confusion. “You brought me a gift,” he said slowly. 

Y/n simply nodded, and the other man took the necklace carefully between elegant fingers. For a moment, something unexpectedly soft crossed his features. “. . . No one has ever done that before,” he mumbled. 

Y/n’s chest tightened painfully. They should have, he signed gently. His expression sharpened, and Y/n smiled in return.

To cover his mistaken expressions, the Merman cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “You may call me Azul,” he redirected. 

Y/n blinked in surprise; he wasn’t expecting to get a name this early. 

My name is Y/n. Azul watched his hands intently as the Prince introduced himself.

Something about seeing his own name understood so effortlessly made Y/n feel strangely emotional. No repeating himself, no confused stares, no awkward waiting for someone else to interpret. Just simple understanding. 

Azul tilted his head slightly afterward. “It suits you,” he offered, and Y/n smiled. 

The next time Y/n visited, he arrived carrying books enchanted with water-repellent cast by the dutiful librarian. 

Azul looked disdainful. “You brought homework?” his face squished in annoyance. 

The Prince laughed silently, shaking his head. I brought stories, he explained. 

Azul reluctantly allowed him further into the cave, and the Prince sat on the ledge while Azul rested nearby amongst curling tentacles and scattered treasures. 

Y/n’s attention kept drifting downward, an action Azul noticed almost instantly. “. . . Why are you staring?” he asked defensively. 

Y/n blinked before signing, honest, I’ve never seen tentacles before. 

Azul stared at him flatly. “That sentence felt more offensive than I think you intended,” he deadpanned. 

Y/n laughed, the only sound escaping him being puffs of air. At the sight, Azul’s expression softened despite himself. 

Carefully, Y/n pointed downward. Do they move on their own? he asked. Azul paused, thinking for a moment. 

Then one tentacle flicked water directly into the Prince’s face. He jerked backward in surprise, mouth opening in a silent squeal. 

Azul smirked, “Yes, they do.”

Y/n stared at him, then grinned so brightly that Azul abruptly looked away, flustered. 

Y/n leaned forward again curiously. Can you feel through them?

Azul nearly choked. “You ask extremely invasive questions,” he remarked tightly. 

Y/n looked genuinely apologetic as he expressed, I’m curious. 

Azul muttered something under his breath before finally answering. “Yes, they’re sensitive,” he murmured. 

The Prince nodded thoughtfully, a dangerous kind of thoughtfulness. 

Azul noticed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, tense. In response, Y/n slowly reached forward. He hesitated silently, asking permission without words as his hand hovered above his appendages. 

Azul stared at him for several long seconds before finally sighing. “. . . Fine,” he allowed, and carefully, Y/n brushed his fingers against one of Azul’s tentacles. 

It was soft and warm, far smoother than he had expected. Azul visibly shivered, and Y/n instantly pulled back. Sorry! he signed frantically.

Azul’s face was faintly pink now. “You are alarmingly unaware of your own behavior,” he mumbled into his hand. 

Y/n tilted his head innocently, and Azul groaned softly. 

Another night, rain hammered against the ocean above them while the Prince sat wrapped in one of Azul’s blankets on the ledge, leaning back against the sturdy, rocky wall. 

Azul pretended not to notice how comfortable the sight made him feel. 

Do you ever leave this cave? Y/n signed suddenly.

Azul’s expression shifted subtly, guarded again. “Rarely,” he answered curtly. 

Y/n frowned slightly. Why?

Azul was quiet for a long moment before finally answering. “Humans are not the only ones capable of cruelty.” 

The Prince stilled, and Azul shifted in the water, crossing his arms atop the ledge as his tentacles continuously changed from coiling in the water to brushing gently against the treasures littered about. 

“My family name is. . .unpopular, to say the least,” Azul continued, his eyes cast downward as something bitter flickered briefly across his face. “My aunt threatened the underwater kingdom many years ago.” He sighed, “Even now, many still associate me with her.” His tentacles curled tighter around themselves unconsciously. “They see the bloodline before they see me.” 

Y/n understood the feeling completely. He moved closer without hesitation, and Azul flicked his eyes upward to catch Y/n signing.

They're wrong, he said, determined. 

Azul laughed quietly. “You don't even know me.”

Y/n looked directly at him. I know you saved me, he said. I know you're kind even when you pretend not to be. 

Azul's breath caught softly, and Y/n smiled gently. I think that tells me enough. 

The save fell silent afterward, heavy but warm. Azul stared at him like he didn't know what to do with tenderness given so freely.

“You really are strange,” Azul eventually said, yet he sounded fond of it. 

💜

Y/n had begun measuring his days by the ocean, and everything before Azul now felt dull in comparison.

Court meetings blurred together. Lessons became unbearable. Even the palace itself felt colder somehow. 

But here. Here, the air glowed blue with reflected water light, and Azul looked at him like he was worth listening to. 

The Prince surfaced inside the cave with considerably more ease than before.

Azul was already waiting. Or rather, pretending not to wait. 

He lounged against the stone ledge, reading from one of the books Y/n had brought days earlier, though the moment the Prince climbed onto the cave shore, Azul flipped the page much too quickly to have actually been reading. 

Y/n smiled as Azul glanced up. “You're late,” he commented with mock annoyance. 

Y/n blinked innocently before signing, You missed me. 

Azul nearly dropped the book into the water, and Y/n found amusement in his flustered state. 

Azul lowered the book, placing it next to a neat pile against the cave wall. “You are becoming dangerously confident.” 

The Prince’s ears warmed, though his smile only widened. Was I wrong? he asked cheekily. 

Azul opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked away sharply. “That is irrelevant,” he backfired. 

Y/n laughed. Azul has absolutely missed him.

Later, Y/n sat near Azul at the edge of the ledge, knees drawn loosely to his chest while Azul sorted through scattered treasures beside him. 

Or attempted to, because Y/n had been staring at Azul for the past several minutes. 

Azul sighed without looking up from his organizing. “You're doing it again,” he said. 

Y/n blinked innocently, and when Azul finally looked at him, he signed, Doing what? 

Azul gave him a look. “Staring,” he clarified. 

Y/n smiled faintly. You're interesting to look at. Azul's ears warmed at that. 

The Prince had discovered recently that Azul flustered surprisingly easily when complimented directly.

And, unfortunately for Azul, Y/n found that incredibly endearing. 

The Merman attempted to recover his composure. “I am beginning to think humans survive purely through audacity.”

Y/n laughed silently before inching closer. Close enough that now he could see every tiny movement in Azul's expression. 

Close enough to notice the faint shimmer along the edges of his pointed ears beneath the cave light. 

Curiosity flickered across Y/n’s eyes, and Azul noticed immediately.

“No,” he said suspiciously. 

Y/n tilted his head, pouting slightly. You don't even know what I'm asking yet. 

Azul deadpanned. “Yes, I do.” 

The Prince grinned, then signed slowly, Can I touch your ears?

Azul closed his eyes briefly like he was preparing himself mentally. “You ask questions no civilized person should ever ask,” he sighed. 

Y/n let out puffs of air in laughter, warm and quiet. Azul's chest tightened embarrassingly at the sight, and the feeling only got worse as Y/n leaned forward. 

Please? he asked. 

Azul made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes. He instantly lost the argument. 

“. . . Briefly,” he gave in, and Y/n brightened instantaneously. He shifted closer to Azul, letting his knees bend at the end of the ledge, his calves dipping into the water. He beckoned Azul closer, and—already regretting everything—he listened, maneuvering into the water and in front of Y/n. His tentacles curled against the sea floor, and his arms crossed across the Prince's lap, leaning closer to make Y/n’s reach easier. 

Slowly, Y/n lifted one hand toward him. He hesitated just before touching him, giving Azul time to pull away if he wished.

Azul did not, and Y/n’s fingertips brushed lightly against the pointed edge of his ear. 

Azul inhaled sharply, and Y/n froze. Did I hurt you? he asked, worried.

“No,” Azul denied, far too fast; far too breathless.

Y/n stared at him, his expression softening. Because suddenly Azul looked strangely vulnerable sitting there beneath the cave light. 

Not sharp-tongued. Not composed. Just nervous. 

Y/n’s touch gentled instinctively as his fingers brushed carefully along the edge of Azul’s ear again before drifting slightly into his hair. 

Y/n visibly brightened in surprise. Your hair is softer than I expected, he commented, and Azul looked taken aback by it. “You cannot just announce observations like that,” he demanded, embarrassed. 

Y/n smiled helplessly before carefully combing his fingers another inch through stark white strands. 

Azul shivered again, but Y/n didn't pull away this time. Instead, his expression shifted into something warmer; something curious. 

The cave suddenly felt much smaller, and Azul swallowed tightly as Y/n’s fingers gently moved through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut before he could stop himself.

Y/n stilled as Azul relaxed beneath his touch, almost completely like he trusted him entirely. 

The realization made something ache softly inside his chest, and when Azul reopened his eyes, Y/n signed, You like this. 

Azul’s eyes narrowed. “Your observation skills are deeply irritating,” he groaned, and Y/n laughed silently.

His hand slipped lower, fingertips brushing against the back of Azul's neck. The action caused Azul's composure to crack, and his tentacles curled sharply against the sandy floor. 

“You need to stop doing that.” Y/n tilted his head at the demand. Doing what? he asked. 

“Looking at me like you're trying to understand me.”

Y/n smiled. I am trying to, he admitted. The honesty in the answer stole whatever response Azul had prepared. 

The cave quieted again, and Y/n’s hand remained gently tangled in Azul's hair while they stared at each other from far too close. 

Azul’s gaze drifted downward, glazing over Y/n’s mouth before snapping back up. 

The Prince noticed, and suddenly his own heartbeat became painfully obvious. 

Neither moved away, and Y/n’s fingers loosened in Azul’s hair. The Merman leaned forward without seeming to realize it, and Y/n’s breath caught. 

They were close enough now that he could feel warmth radiating from Azul’s skin despite the cool ocean air. Close enough that Y/n could count the tiny beauty marks that decorated his face.

Azul’s voice dropped as he said, “You are very dangerous, you know.”

Y/n smiled faintly. You say that often, he commented. 

“Because it’s constantly true.”

Another inch closer, and the Prince’s hand slipped gently from Azul’s hair to rest against his cheek instead. 

Neither spoke; neither breathed properly. And just as their foreheads brushed lightly together—

A loud crack of thunder echoed through the cave overhead. 

Both of them startled apart, and silence ensued.

Y/n burst into silent laughter, and Azul stared at him in complete disbelief. “You’re laughing,” he commented incredulously. 

Y/n nodded hopelessly, covering his mouth while his shoulders shook. Azul groaned before covering his own face with one hand. “I genuinely cannot tell if the universe is mocking me personally,” he complained. 

The Prince reached forward, still smiling brightly, and gently pulled Azul’s hand away from his face. 

Their eyes met once more, softer this time. And though the moment had passed, neither of them moved very far away afterward. 

💜

Rainstorms had become strangely comforting. Tonight, the ocean roared violently while the cave remained warm and dimly lit beneath glowing blue coral. 

Y/n sat wrapped in blankets again while Azul rested nearby, sorting through pearls absentmindedly. 

Neither spoke for a while, and the silence was comfortable. 

Then Y/n knocked gently against the ledge to gain Azul’s attention. When his pale blue eyes met the Prince's, he signed, Do you ever wish you were someone else?

Azul’s brows furrowed, and he carefully set the pearls aside. “Frequently,” he answered. 

Y/n gave a faint, humorless smile. Me too, he admitted. 

Azul studied him carefully. “What happened today?” he asked. Y/n seemed startled by the question, and Azul gestured vaguely. “You always arrive carrying your emotions with you.” 

Y/n stared at him. You notice too much. 

“It's one of my better qualities,” Azul replied. 

Y/n’s smile faded gradually, and he looked toward the cave entrance, toward the distant raging ocean. My father held another council meeting today, he explained, and Azul caught the bitterness in his expression. They spoke about me as though I wasn't there again. His jaw tightened. They always do. 

Y/n hugged the blanket closer around himself, smaller now. They think I'm weak because I cannot speak. That the kingdom needs an heir people believe in. He paused, his hands slowing. I don't think they believe in me at all. 

Something painful twisted in Azul's chest as Y/n’s loneliness became painfully familiar. 

“They are fools.” Y/n blinked confusedly as Azul continued, “You are thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate—” he stopped abruptly, meeting Y/n’s gentle expression before looking away. “And frankly far more patient than most rulers intend to be.” 

Y/n smiled faintly. You sound biased.

“I am,” Azul responded simply, and Y/n shoved his shoulder lightly in retaliation. 

Azul caught his wrist before he could pull away, and both of them stilled.

Azul's thumb rested unconsciously against Y/n’s pulse, and the Prince’s breathing hitched softly. 

The storm above them rumbled through the stone walls as neither of them moved away. 

Y/n could feel his own heartbeat embarrassingly clearly. Azul must have noticed too because his gaze flickered downward before quickly returning to Y/n’s face.

Y/n swallowed softly, and Azul's eyes followed the movement before starting away. 

“. . . You should stop looking at me like that,” Azul said listlessly. 

Y/n blinked slowly, his free hand signing, Like what?

Azul laughed under his breath. “You genuinely don't realize what you're doing to me, do you?” 

Y/n stared at him, and maybe he did. That realization made warmth crawl up his neck. 

Azul noticed that too, because of course he did. “There it is again.”

Y/n tilted his head.

“That looks,” Azul clarified, his thumb brushing unconsciously against the Prince's wrist again. “You become shy whenever you understand I'm serious.” 

Y/n looked down before slowly responding. You make me nervous. 

Azul went very still, and Y/n laughed silently. I think that’s fair, no? Azul stared at him for several long seconds before saying softly, “No one has ever said that to me before.”

That no one has ever been nervous around you?

“No,” Azul shook his head, his gaze lowering slightly, “That someone liked me enough for it to matter.”

Y/n’s heart ached at that because Azul said things like that so casually sometimes. Like he genuinely expected affection to be temporary, for it to be conditional. 

Y/n shifted closer without thinking, his calves brushing against tentacles underwater. Neither pulled away, and Y/n signed, I like you very much. 

Azul inhaled sharply, and the Prince continued before courage could leave him. I think about you constantly. He shifted closer. When I’m at the palace, I wish I were here. Azul’s composure visibly weakened with every word, and Y/n’s hands trembled slightly now, but not from fear.

And when I leave here. . . his expression softened, I already miss you. 

Azul looked completely undone, and Y/n had never seen him like this before. No sharp wit, no carefully composed confidence—just raw vulnerability sitting openly in his eyes. 

Truly, he was beautiful. 

Y/n reached up slowly before he could overthink it; his fingers brushed carefully against Azul’s cheek. Azul leaned into the touch, like he was starved for gentleness.

“You are going to ruin me.” His words came out barely above a whisper. 

You say dramatic things for someone who constantly accuses me of it, Y/n signed amusedly, and Azul laughed quietly. 

They were closer now, their foreheads nearly touching. Y/n could feel the warmth of Azul’s breath; could see every tiny shift in his expression.

And suddenly, he wanted. Not the aching loneliness he carried from the palace, not the desperate longing that followed him to the sea, but something softer. Something terrifyingly hopeful. 

Y/n’s hand slid carefully from Azul’s cheek into his hair, and Azul’s eyes fluttered shut briefly. 

Y/n stared at him for one long moment, and when Azul’s eyes opened again, Y/n mouthed, Can I kiss you? Despite him not signing, Azul was able to understand his words. 

He was taken by surprise, but not because Y/n wanted to kiss him. It was because he had asked, like the answer mattered. 

Like Azul mattered.

For a second, something heartbreakingly soft crossed his face, then Azul laughed softly beneath his breath. “You ask that now?”

Y/n blinked innocently, and Azul leaned closer. Close enough now that their noses brushed lightly. “After spending weeks relentlessly flirting with me?”

Y/n’s face burned, and he rolled his eyes as if to say I was not relentless. 

Azul deadpanned. “You asked about my anatomy within three conversations.” 

Y/n covered his face in embarrassment, and Azul smiled fully this time. Warm and dangerously beautiful.

His expression softened again. 

“Yes.”

Y/n looked up, and Azul nodded, “You may kiss me.”

Y/n did not hesitate again as he closed the distance gently, one hand still cradling Azul’s face while the other took itself out of Azul’s grip and steadied it against his chest. 

Azul immediately pulled him closer; his tentacles curled instinctively around Y/n’s waist and legs, pulling him further away from the ledge and closer to Azul, protective and desperate all at once. 

Y/n melted against him with a startled breath, and the kiss deepened. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but unbearably tender. Like both of them had been lonely for far too long. 

Azul kissed him carefully at first, but then he could not stop. One hand slid into Y/n’s damp hair, his other arm looping around the Prince’s waist. Y/n laughed softly against his mouth in quiet disbelief, and when they finally pulled apart, neither moved far. 

Their foreheads rested together while the cave glowed softly around them. 

Y/n’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and Azul looked equally dazed. 

“. . . I think I understand humans significantly less now,” The Merman admitted once recovering. 

Y/n laughed again, and Azul leaned forward to kiss him once more before the Prince could respond. 

💜

The Prince was still blushing.

Not subtly, either. His face remained warm even several minutes after the recent kiss while he sat curled close against Azul with the cave wall brushing their backs. He was trying very hard to look composed, although his heart still felt like it had entirely forgotten how to function properly. 

Azul, unfortunately, noticed everything. “You’re tense,” he remarked amusedly. Y/n immediately forced himself to relax, and Azul laughed softly under his breath.

Gods, that sound alone was becoming dangerous. Y/n covered the bottom half of his face while signing, You kissed me back very aggressively for someone pretending to be calm right now. 

Azul nearly choked. “It was not aggressive.”

Y/n gave him a look, and Azul looked offended by the accusation for approximately half a second before losing the battle entirely and laughing again. “Alright,” he gave in, “perhaps slightly.”

Y/n grinned, warmth still buzzing through his chest so intensely it almost felt unreal.

Azul kept glancing at him too, like he couldn’t stop. Every time their eyes met, something soft flickered across Azul’s face before he quickly tried pretending otherwise. 

It was adorable, really. 

Y/n shifted closer, and one of Azul’s tentacles curled loosely around his ankle. Y/n blinked downward, eyes shifting back up.

“. . . What?” Azul raised a brow, and Y/n’s smile widened slowly. You’re doing that on purpose, he said. 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Azul deflected as the tentacle tightened around Y/n’s ankle. 

Y/n laughed silently. You’re clingy.

Azul looked scandalized. “Excuse you?”

Y/n pointed downward accusingly, and another tentacle curled around his wrist this time. 

Y/n promptly burst into laughter.

“Oh, now you’re enjoying this,” Azul said, disdainful. Y/n nodded immediately. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. 

Azul flushed, “I truly need you to stop saying things like that.”

Y/n tilted his head. But it’s true. He was smiling brightly now, hopelessly affectionate already.

Azul looked completely doomed by it. Another one of his tentacles gently flicked against Y/n’s side, and the Prince jolted in surprise. 

His eyes widened, and Azul froze before a dangerous smile spread across his face.

Y/n pointed at him. Don’t, he warned.

“Don’t what?” Azul asked aloofly while flicking against his side again. Y/n jerked again, shoulders shaking with silent laughter before he could stop himself. 

Azul, he reprimanded.

“Yes?” Y/n narrowed his eyes, and Azul merely smiled. “You make very unfairly adorable expressions when startled.”

Y/n stared in betrayal, then another tentacle curled around his waist and tugged him sideways. The Prince let out a startled breath as he nearly toppled directly into Azul’s chest. 

The Merman hummed, steadying him effortlessly and far too pleased with himself. 

Y/n shoved his shoulder lightly while trying—and failing—to stop smiling. You’re terrible, he signed. 

“And you kissed me despite knowing this.” Y/n’s face warmed again at that, and Azul returned the expression with one of fondness. 

The teasing softened around the edges after that. Y/n remained half-curled against Azul while tentacles rested comfortably around his waist and legs now. Not trapping him, but holding him gently. 

Y/n glanced down at the appendages, smiling cheekily as he reached out and brushed his fingertips against one. 

Azul instantly stiffened, and Y/n looked up at him. Sensitive? he asked teasingly. The Merman didn’t reply right away, and that only made Y/n smile wider. 

“No,” Azul declared, but Y/n laughed before gently tracing his fingers along the tentacle again. 

Azul’s composure fractured, and the tentacles around him tightened. “You are doing that intentionally.” he pulled the Prince closer. 

Y/n grinned. So are you, he called out. Azul stared at him quietly for a moment after that: at his flushed cheeks, bright eyes, the softness in his expression that only seemed to appear here within the cave.

And suddenly Azul reached up carefully, brushing his thumb gently along the Prince’s cheek. “You’re happy,” he observed. 

Y/n blinked softly. He was happy, and the realization struck almost unexpectedly. Here beneath the ocean, tangled together with someone who looked at him like he was precious.

He was happy. 

Y/n’s expression gentled as he slowly leaned forward to kiss Azul again.

This time, Azul smiled against his mouth before kissing him back. 

💜

The dining hall felt colder than usual. 

Not physically, for the fireplaces burned brightly, servants moved gracefully between long candlelit tables, and music drifted softly from the far side of the room.

But still, the Prince felt cold. 

Perhaps because everything reminded him of the cave now. The palace’s golden chandeliers could not compare to glowing blue seawater against stone.  Polite conversation felt unbearable after easy silence with Azul. 

And worst of all, every moment spent here was time spent away from him. 

Y/n sat quietly while nobles discussed trade routes farther down the table. His fingers absently traced patterns against the stem of his untouched wine glass—a habit he had developed recently, one that Azul had pointed out. 

“You do that whenever you’re thinking too hard.”

The memory made warmth briefly flicker through him.

That was until his father spoke up. 

“There is something important we must discuss tonight,” he announced, and the entire table quieted instantly. The King sat unusually stiff beside the Queen, fingers laced tightly together atop the tablecloth.

His mother herself looked uneasy. Not fearful, but something akin to guilt. 

Y/n’s stomach tightened, for he knew that expression. 

His father exhaled slowly, “Earlier today, representatives from the Queendom of Selene arrived.” The neighboring queendom was known for being powerful, and Y/n knew how politically valuable they were. 

Y/n frowned faintly as the King continued carefully. “We have reached an agreement beneficial to both monarchies.” 

Y/n glanced toward his mother, but she would not meet his eyes. A terrible feeling settled instantly in his chest, and his hold on his wine glass tightened uneasily. 

The King looked directly at his son this time. “You are to be formally betrothed to Princess Elyse of Selene.”

Complete and utter silence followed as Y/n stared blankly at his father. He was certain for one impossible moment that he had misunderstood, but then his mother finally looked toward him. 

Painfully soft eyes.

Y/n’s pulse began pounding violently in his ears. 

The King continued speaking, mistaking the Prince’s silence for acceptance. “The arrangement will strengthen diplomatic relations considerably,” he explained. 

Y/n abruptly pushed back from the table, and several nobles startled as his hands moved in fast, sharp movements. No, he declared. 

His mother’s face tightened, but his father frowned. “This decision was not made lightly,” he said calmly, though his voice lacked any real sympathy. 

Y/n signed again, more forcefully this time. I will not marry someone I do not love.

Several nobles exchanged uncomfortable glances, and the King’s expression hardened. “This is not merely about love.”

Y/n laughed humorlessly. Of course it isn’t, he said bitterly. 

His father’s patience visibly thinned. “You are the heir to this kingdom.”

Y/n’s hands trembled. And that means my life belongs to everyone except me?

“Please understand, we are trying to help you,” His mother finally intervened, her voice soothing. 

Y/n froze. Help me? 

The King leaned forward. “The people struggle to connect with you,” he said blatantly. Every one of his words felt precise, measured, as if carefully rehearsed beforehand. “The Princess is known for her charm and diplomacy. She would help bridge the distance between you and the court.”

Bridge the distance. . .

Y/n suddenly understood. This was not merely a marriage; it was compensation. A solution: a socially graceful wife to soften the discomfort of his muteness. 

To speak where he could not.

To make him easier to accept. 

The realization hurt far more than he expected, and Y/n slowly lowered his hands.

The entire room mistook his silence for surrender, and only the Queen noticed the devastation settling quietly across his face. “We only want what is best for you,” she said gently, though her eyes indicated that she had no say in this decision. 

Y/n looked at her finally, and for the first time in his life, he felt angry with her too.

What is best for me. . . he signed, his movements smaller now. Or what is easiest for the kingdom?

No one answered immediately, and the silence was enough. 

Y/n stepped away from the table entirely, and his father’s voice called out as he started to walk away. “This engagement is already being prepared publicly.” Y/n stopped moving, looking back at his father. “You have responsibilities beyond yourself,” he said sternly. 

Y/n looked down at his own hands. Hands the court called inadequate; hands Azul held like they were precious; hands someone finally listened to. 

And suddenly the thought of spending the rest of his life here—smiling politely beside a stranger while nobles whispered about his limitations—felt unbearable.

The Prince signed one final sentence, slow and painfully controlled. You never asked what I wanted. 

Then he turned and walked out. 

The moment the doors shut behind him, Y/n’s composure cracked. 

His breathing turned even. Hands shaking violently now. 

Servants moved aside quickly as he strode through the corridors, yet he barely saw them. The palace walls felt suffocating, closing in around him. 

Betrothed. Promised away like some diplomatic offering because he was too quiet, too strange—too difficult to stand alone. 

Y/n shoved open the palace doors hard enough to startle the guards outside. 

Rain poured heavily across the cliffs, yet he did not hesitate. Y/n ran toward the docks; toward the sea.

Toward the only place that had ever felt like freedom.

Toward Azul.

💜

Azul knew something was wrong immediately. Y/n surfaced frantically through the cave entrance, breath uneven as he pulled himself onto the cave ledge. His clothes hung heavily on him from rain and seawater, hands trembling hard enough that he nearly slipped against the stone.

Azul was at his side instantly. “What happened?” he asked, trying to mask his concern in order to calm the Prince down. 

Y/n’s movements came too fast, clumsy with emotion as he tried to explain. 

Azul caught his wrists gently. “Slowly,” he instructed softly. 

Y/n shut his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Azul remained close enough that he could feel warmth radiating from him despite the cold water. 

Finally, he signed. They arranged a marriage.

Azul stilled completely, and Y/n looked away as if he couldn't bear seeing the reaction. 

The cave suddenly felt painfully quiet; only distant storm waves echoed through the stone. Azul released Y/n’s wrists gently. “. . . I see,” he said slowly, the words sounding strangely careful.

Y/n’s chest tightened. Azul was quiet because this changed everything; because now the Prince truly belonged to someone else. 

I'm sorry, Y/n lamented, bitter and melancholy. Azul frowned at that. “What for?” he asked. 

For bringing this here. For ruining this, he wished to sign. For making something beautiful so complicated. 

Y/n bowed his head in shame. They announced it during dinner, he explained, his movements growing sharper with frustration. They said it would help the kingdom trust me more. 

Azul's expression darkened at that, and Y/n continued before he could stop himself. They think I need someone charming beside me to compensate for my silence. 

The words visibly angered Azul. Actually angered him. His tentacles curled sharply against the sandy floor as he said, “How generous of them.” Y/n blinked in surprise as Azul's voice became dangerously smooth. “To reduce you to a political inconvenience.” 

No one has ever reacted like that before. Most pitied him or awkwardly reassured him. 

Azul looked furious on his behalf. 

You make it sound cruel when you say it, Y/n commented lightly. 

“It is cruel,” Azul immediately replied, and his voice lacked uncertainty or pity.

Azul moved closer now, expression sharp with something protective and angry all at once. “You are not difficult to love simply because you communicate differently.” Y/n’s breath caught as he continued, “And frankly, anyone who cannot see your worth within five minutes is an idiot.” 

Y/n stared at the Merman. Azul sounded genuinely offended by the idea, and Y/n realized he had never once needed to explain himself here. 

Never once had it felt like too much effort, for Azul had understood him from the beginning. 

Y/n’s eyes burned unexpectedly, and he looked away quickly. 

“. . . Hey,” Azul said softly, and Y/n shook his head tightly. 

Still, Azul continued. “Look at me,” he asked gently. 

Y/n hesitated before lifting his gaze, his teary eyes meeting Azul's. He laughed silently through the humiliation of it. I hate crying, he signed shakily. 

“I know,” Azul said simply, and Y/n blinked, a few stray tears falling down his cheeks. Azul was quick to catch them with his thumb. “You always press your lips together beforehand like you're personally offended by it,” he observed. 

Despite everything, Y/n laughed again, small and broken. Azul looked relieved just hearing it, and Y/n lowered his gaze again. 

I don't want this, he said, and Azul's jaw tightened. I don't want a kingdom that sees me as a problem to solve. He took a shaky breath, I don't want to spend the rest of my life pretending I'm happy. 

Y/n looked at Azul determinedly. I don't want anyone else, he declared. 

Azul reached for him carefully, his hand gently cupping his cheek. Y/n leaned into it instinctively, and Azul sighed. “You deserve better than this,” he said. 

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut because hearing someone say that—actually say it and mean it—felt devastating. 

Then why does it feel impossible to leave? he asked hopelessly. He opened his eyes to find Azul conflicted, like he was fighting something internally. 

“Because it's still your home,” he sufficed. 

Y/n’s shoulder sagged. It stopped feeling like a home a long time ago. He looked exhausted as he signed it, emotionally drained. 

Without another word, Azul gently pulled him closer. Y/n melted against him like he had been holding himself together solely to reach this cave. Azul wrapped several tentacles around him, warm and protective. For several long minutes, neither spoke, and the storm raged above them. 

Here, beneath the sea, Azul held him like something precious. Not inconvenient. Not burdensome. Not broken. 

Precious.

When they pulled apart, Y/n signed weakly, You're very warm. 

Azul laughed softly under his breath. “That's your contribution to this emotional moment?” he asked, amused. 

Y/n pulled him into another hug, nodding. Azul shook his head fondly before pressing a gentle kiss against his hair. 

Y/n looked up, smiling faintly as he reached upward to kiss Azul, this time slower—neadier, somehow. And Azul kissed him back like he had wanted to from the moment the Prince arrived. 

The kiss lingered long after they pulled apart. Not because either of them continued moving, but because neither seemed willing to create distance again. 

Y/n remained curled against Azul’s chest, breathing slowly while Azul's tentacles rested securely around his waist and legs. 

Protective. Possessive, almost. 

Azul gently brushed his thumb beneath Y/n’s eye, wiping away the lingering trace of tears there. “You look exhausted,” he remarked. Y/n smiled. I feel exhausted, he replied. 

Azul hummed softly in understanding, and for a while, neither spoke. Y/n listened quietly to the rhythmic sound of water echoing through the cave walls—to Azul’s breathing, the steady warmth holding them together. 

Slowly, a thought he had been avoiding finally surfaced fully, and the Prince’s expression shifted. 

Azul noticed. “What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

Y/n hesitated before slowly sitting up straighter within Azul’s hold. If I refuse the marriage. . . he slowed, it will damage relations between kingdoms. 

“That sounds like your father’s problem.” Azul shrugged. Y/n laughed before his expression softened. If I stay, I think I’ll spend the rest of my life miserable. 

Azul went very still at that, and Y/n looked down at his own hands, at the faint tremble still lingering in them. I don’t belong there anymore, he finally finished. 

Y/n swallowed softly before finally forcing himself to look back at Azul. And there, in the safety of the light and seawater, he allowed himself to ask the question that had been haunting him for months. Is there a way for me to stay here? 

Azul blinked, and Y/n’s heartbeat quickened. With you, he clarified. 

Azul stared at him as though he had stopped understanding language entirely. Y/n’s confidence faltered slightly beneath the intensity of that look. You said humans and merfolk rarely interact, he ranted. But there must be stories, or magic, or—

“There is,” Azul interrupted. Y/n froze, and Azul’s gaze dropped in thoughtfulness. “There are transformation spells,” he settled on saying. 

Y/n’s eyes widened, and Azul leaned back against the cave wall. “Old magic,” his face twisted, "Difficult magic.”

Y/n moved closer, hope blooming so suddenly and painfully inside him that it almost frightened him. You mean it’s possible? he signed frantically.

“Yes,” Azul said quietly. 

Then I can stay. Azul’s face shifted in concern, and Y/n frowned. What? 

Azul hesitated as something visibly conflicting crossed his face. “You say that very easily,” he said slowly. “You would abandon your kingdom.”

My kingdom abandoned me first, Y/n refuted, his words settling heavily between them. Azul stared at him for several long seconds, and Y/n looked away. They only see me as useful when someone else speaks for me. A bitter smile flickered across his face. At least here I’m understood. He closed the distance between them. 

I don’t care about crowns, he declared. I care about being happy. . . I care about you. 

Azul looked overwhelmed. 

Y/n had seen him flustered before, embarrassed and soft. But this felt different, like Azul genuinely did not know how to hold this much love being offered to him. “You cannot say things like that so casually,” he said tensely. 

Y/n smiled earnestly. I mean it. And that seemed to affect Azul even worse. He covered part of his face with one hand, laughing under his breath in disbelief. “You are catastrophic for my composure,” he murmured. 

Azul lowered his hand slowly afterward, then looked at him carefully. 

Would you still want me here?

“Yes,” Azul’s answer came without hesitation. Azul brushed damp hair back from Y/n’s forehead. “I think I’ve wanted you here from the moment you smiled at me instead of running away,” he confessed. 

Carefully, Y/n signed. Then let me stay. 

Azul looked at him for a long moment: at the exhaustion still lingering behind his eyes; at the longing; at the desperate hope. 

And finally, Azul leaned forward and kissed him again. When they separated, Azul rested his forehead against Y/n’s, and he gave in. “Alright,” he whispered. 

Y/n smiled brightly, relieved in a way that made Azul’s chest ache. 

“But before you abandon your entire kingdom for me. . .” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of the Merman’s mouth, “You should probably learn how to swim properly first.”

Y/n stared at him in offense, and Azul laughed openly as the Prince shoved his shoulder lightly in retaliation. 

For the first time in his life, the future no longer felt like a prison. 

It felt like the ocean, endless and free. 

💜

Years later, the former Prince still woke up reaching for Azul, like the tide returning to the shore.

Some mornings, he would lie there for a while, half-asleep beneath warm skin while sunlight filtered through the water outside their cave. 

Their once-lonely cave had become something soft over the years—books stacked carelessly along stone shelves, glowing coral gardens, scattered trade papers Azul constantly complained about, and little surface trinkets Y/n insisted on keeping. 

Azul now oversaw trade routes throughout the underwater kingdom. The same kingdom that once rejected him had finally learned to see him for who he truly was, and Y/n remained endlessly proud of that. 

This morning, Azul sat reviewing paperwork while Y/n curled sleepily against his side. 

“You are an unbelievable distraction,” Azul commented listlessly. 

Y/n smiled faintly before signing, And yet you keep me around.

Azul laughed softly at that, then leaned down to kiss him, slow and familiar.

Outside, the ocean drifted peacefully around their home while sunlight shimmered through the sea. 

And wrapped safely in each other’s arms, they stayed there together, happy at last. 

💜