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Alec loves the ocean. He does not dance in it like Isabelle, who loves to kick up water and sand with her feet. But it is a constant companion, so Alec loves it, despite its fickle nature and unknown depths. He loves to cut through its waves and peer out over the sunshine reflecting off its playful surface. It provides for him and his family.
Their father abandoned them. Maryse was with child. Alec set out to sea and took up the mantle of provider. What was once fun fishing with his siblings turned into the tense pressure to keep those siblings alive.
He was fourteen.
He is twenty-three now, and a much more efficient fisherman than he was. He is also a shrewder salesman, which Isabelle likes to tease him about.
He misses her. Both she and Jace have moved out of their home to pursue their own practices. Isabelle apprentices under the best healer in the area. She lives with Mistress Catarina, earning money by assisting alongside her studies. Jace found his place as the local Lord Garroway’s squire. His knight feeds, clothes, and arms him, leaving Jace with nothing but his skills and the lord’s feisty daughter to write home about.
Although they both live nearby, their exploits usually take them far from their family. They both send money home as often as they can, and between their sponsorships and the new influx of income, they’ve started an educational fund for Max.
Alec loves his family and misses his siblings greatly. They’re an unshakeable part of his identity, but the financial help and the subsequent stability it provides for his mother and Max stokes the small coals that reside in his heart.
Despite Alec’s lack of education, his mother taught him and his siblings to read and write. Alec learned math through keeping books for his mother when she fished, and then for himself when he took over. He always loved books. He loved the fairytales that his mother used to lull Max to sleep and the poetry he read under the silver moonlight when he came home from a long day.
Rough, net-calloused fingers feel comfortable around the stem of Alec’s pen.
He takes in a deep breath. The sea breeze cools his lungs and runs fingers through his salt-stiff hair, carrying the scent of the ocean as it sweeps over the cove sands. Alec lies back against the sand as he opens his eyes and stares up at the clouds that drift overhead. His legs hang over the edge of an outcrop, about two feet above the waterline.
His cove, Isabelle calls it. The place he comes to bare his soul. Perhaps it’s the solitude that gives him peace; maybe it’s simply the beauty of an untouched beach with its white sands and clear waters. Regardless, Alec begins to write.
Dragons ate humans. He knew from the beginning. Yet the prince held out his hand, and the dragon took him into a warm embrace of strong arms.
Alec pauses.
His mother loves his stories. She cups his chin and says that he should share, but knows why he refuses.
Alec shakes off his hesitation and plows onward. He wants to publish his work, someday. He wants the world to know about the stories and hopes he holds deep in his heart. If he must use a pen name, he will. He just needs to gather the courage.
So he continues to write until the tide rises and laps at his toes. Alec stops, the long-practiced handwriting stark against the parchment he holds in front of him.
“And they loved each other,” he reads aloud. “They loved each other with a passion unburdened by fear, for the dragon protected his prince, and the prince protected his dragon’s heart.”
***
Alec pulls his boat ashore when he notices something glinting in the sunlight. There, where he prefers to sit, lays a silver necklace. He picks it up, fingering the ruby pendant as he searches for any signs of life on the beach.
There’s no one around, no footprints or stray seafaring vessels. Alec examines the jewelry, turning it over in his hand. He’s no expert, but the craftsmanship is obvious and the weight of the ruby alone makes him feel guilty for even touching it. Another cursory glance over the sand and rocks confirms that he’s the only one on the beach. Whoever left this here must have left it for a reason.
So he sets it aside and begins to write.
***
When he comes back the next day, the necklace is nowhere to be found. Alec wonders who took it. He looks over the barren beach and finds no one, so he sets his bag down, sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the rocky ledge. He hears a splash.
“Did you not like it?”
Wide, golden eyes peer at him from the water. Rivulets flow from sopping black locks down sharp cheekbones and along a strong jawline that stops Alec’s heart from beating.
“Wha-,” Alec pulls back in surprise. His hand knocks the side of his open satchel, his pencil rolling over sand and small shells before tumbling into the ocean with a deafening plop. Alec’s gaze flickers to where it’s escaped then back up to the newcomer. Alec can’t bring himself to move.
Then, the man is gone. Disappearing beneath the calm waves before resurfacing with an unfair smile and Alec’s pencil in hand.
“I had to fight several curious fish for this,” the stranger says with a wink. His expression softens as he gives Alec a sheepish shrug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He’s beautiful, Alec thinks.
The words don’t quite make it out of his mouth. Alec’s grateful for it, but still, he must say something.
“You didn’t scare me.”
An obliging tilt of the head. “I apologize for startling you then.”
They fall into silence as Alec notices the warped outline of a red tail, like a lionfish, light bending beneath the surface. He inches closer to the edge.
Despite the salacious wink and bright smile, the man looks almost nervous.
“You’re a mermaid,” Alec says, for lack of anything else to say.
“I am,” is the response. “And you’re human.”
“A-Alexander,” Alec stutters, despite himself. He wishes he could take the name back, stumble and all. No one even calls him Alexander.
“My name is Magnus,” the mermaid says. “It’s nice to meet you, Alexander.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Alec says, too busy marveling at the way Magnus says his name to try and fix his misstep.
Magnus shifts, the movement striking Alec as flirtatious, and Alec swallows down the desire to reach out and touch.
“Your work is beautiful, you know,” Magnus says. “Your stories... I wanted to show you my appreciation.” He fingers the necklace dangling from his neck. “Would you prefer something else? Other jewelry, or gold, perhaps?”
Alec shakes his head before he can even think of what to say. “I, no, I don’t need anything, I just like to write and I like to hear how it sounds. I can’t really read my work aloud at home, or around where anyone might hear me. What I write...Well, many people would be upset if they heard it.”
Magnus seems to consider this, eyes thoughtful. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he says. “No one comes here other than us. This can be our secret; not even the fish will know,” he winks.
“I don’t know if we need to hide it from the fish,” Alec chuckles.
“Oh, don’t you know? Fish are huge gossips,” Magnus says, voice conspiratory. “Don’t tell them I said that.”
“Just between us then,” Alec replies.
***
Alec almost feels bad for writing, but Magnus watches him with such intent and fascination that he finds himself leaning farther toward flattered than horrified. So he tries to hide his blush by ducking closer to his paper.
He doesn’t know if it’s the attention or the constant distraction of a beautiful half-naked man, but Alec struggles to come up with anything new. With a huff, Alec scribbles through what he’s written and tosses it aside. Magnus swims forward and leans up over the side of the outcropping.
“May I?”
Alec freezes; the idea of sharing his failures with Magnus intimidates him more than it should. But Magnus reaches for the paper, just slow enough to allow Alec time to reject him.
Magnus’ fingers light on the edge of the paper, leaving prints of salt along the grain. Alec waits, impatient and anxious as Magnus’ eyes scan the page.
The page is a mess of Alec trying to explain what a kiss is like. Having never experienced one himself, he has nothing but daydreams to base it on. Magnus looks up at him.
“I uh, I’ve never kissed anyone,” Alec mumbles. Magnus nods at the admission, as if it makes perfect sense, and really, it does.
“Even if you haven’t, it seems like you know what it should feel like,” Magnus says. He turns back to the page. “It was sweet, and it was right.” Magnus reads aloud. His gaze flickers back up to catch Alec’s. “And that’s how kisses should be.” He offers the paper.
Alec takes the draft, scribbles and all, and puts it with the other words he’s written.
“Read me the rest?” Magnus asks.
Alec does.
***
They have a routine. Alec pulls up to shore, and Magnus greets him at the same place every day. The sun sets earlier as the seasons change. Alec mourns the inevitable loss of their time, but Magnus seems to be content cataloging found treasure beside him. Some days, Alec doesn’t do any writing at all.
Like today. Instead, they talk about Magnus’ experimentation with sea magic and the ability to transform his tail into legs. Alec shares his hopes for the future. He talks about his wants for his family, but he never talks about his own, and when Magnus asks, he says nothing.
It’s comfortable, warm, and Alec wants to desperately for it to be the beginning of his own romance. His secret burns in his chest as he taps the tip of his pencil against the pages of his notebook.
It’s quiet but for the light sound of water as Magnus drifts nearby, lazing in the sun.
Alec looks up to find that Magnus is resting with his forearms by Alec’s crossed legs. Magnus continues to watch as Alec puts down his pencil and lays back.
Magnus voice, sharp and clear, rings out into the air. “You know, when I heard you speak, I knew that I wanted to meet you.”
Alec sucks in a sharp breath. He stares resolutely upward and waits for Magnus to speak again. Magnus doesn’t, but Alec needs to hear the rest.
“And?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.
There’s a splash, and then a shadow blocks out the sun. Water drips onto Alec’s chest in countliness lines as Magnus hovers over him.
“You’re everything I thought you’d be.”
Alec can’t keep his secret anymore. He surges upward, heart battering a hole into his ribcage, taking Magnus’ face in his hands.
It was sweet, and it was right
***
Although the villagers always call Alec words like pragmatic and stiff, Isabelle likes to say that he’s romantic .
Alec protests this every time she says it, but a part of him admits that she’s right. Magnus is a beautiful creature made for adventures and sea currents. But Alec loves him all the same. What is more romantic than loving something you cannot have? What are the feelings that wash over Alec if they are not love? What is Magnus if not love itself?
Magnus calls him a treasure: something precious and dear to keep close and care for.
So Alec returns to the cove again and again, accepting Magnus’ gifts of kisses in exchange for stories of dashing warlocks holding hands with shy archers.