Chapter Text
The water almost reached Riddle’s knees, swaying gently as waves pulled in and out from the shore. He could feel the sand under his feet, as well as the loose particles that had stuck to his leg. The sun was warm, and even despite every warning he’d been given, somehow it was hard for Riddle to believe that the same light that felt that gentle could burn him. It felt like the only sound for miles was the waves dancing back and forth along the shore. Riddle was even afraid that breathing too loudly would shatter the quiet peace he’d found.
In what had felt like random chance, Riddle’s mother had decided that the family would take a brief vacation. It was the furthest Riddle had ever been from home. If anything, he was a little frightened. His mother was certainly concerned, fretting far more than usual, despite it being her idea.
Really, Riddle hadn’t meant to wander away. He just saw something, and got curious, and then another something, leading to more curiosity, resulting in where he was now, a secluded section of the beach far from where his family was, walled in with rocks, standing knee-deep in the ocean.
It was the first time Riddle had ever seen the ocean. Even now, even though he knew he should probably go back to where his mother was, and even though he knew he would get scolded, Riddle couldn’t help but stare out at the ocean. In a blanket of rippling waves, it stretched out for miles until it reached the sky, and even then the horizon wasn’t the end to it.
It was beautiful.
Carefully, yet almost like he was in a trance, Riddle took a step forward. It was more difficult to move, the water pressing against him as he tried to do so. Yet at the same time, after getting over the initial resistance, it moved with him, rushing forward past him once he’d stopped, as if encouraging him to go forward.
So Riddle took another step. Then another. And another.
Soon enough, the water was only a few inches below his shoulders. At that moment, the question of how deep the sea really was suddenly crossed Riddle’s mind. As quickly as it did Riddle corrected himself, because he already knew, he’d learned from his studies. But at the same time, in that moment, Riddle couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more.
What exactly was down there anyways?
Riddle took a deep breath, holding it as he ducked his head underwater, and blinked his eyes open.
The water seemed even clearer, every sound of a ripple muffled in Riddle’s ears. Sand sloped in small hills for as long as riddle could see. Several smooth rocks and stones were the only thing to break its surface.
Riddle had seen pictures of coral reefs before. Of the vibrant environment decorating the sea floor, an eye catching feature hiding in every single nook and cranny of it. Most would prefer to see that instead.
For some reason, however, in that moment, Riddle found both as equally beautiful as the other.
Riddle brought his head back up, taking in a gasp of air. He brushed away a few strands of the now soaked hair clinging to his face.
Riddle couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in the ocean. The thing was, however, there were people that knew.
Merfolk.
Admittedly, what Riddle knew about them was limited. Only a few textbooks described accounts from the Coral Sea or other information about merfolk. Riddle had only seen a few illustrations of them, only coupled by stories and spare facts. He knew about some customs, as well as the practice of brewing potions to allow merfolk to take on a human form. Somewhat disappointingly, there were no books in the library written by actual merfolk. Perhaps Riddle would ask his mother if she could get one sometime.
He wondered what it would be like to talk to one of them. It would be interesting.
For some reason, he got the suspicion that his mother wouldn’t allow it. Riddle glanced back towards the direction he’d come from.
He should probably go back.
——————————
Riddle’s family was wealthy. Relative to most people in the Queendom of Roses, of course. His mother was a well-renowned doctor, and that alone paid more than enough for her family to live comfortably. They weren’t exorbitantly rich, far less so than most of the upper class, who’d often flaunt their wealth carelessly. Riddle hadn’t really understood how rich they were at first. He recognized that they owned a larger house and that his mother earned a lot, but it wasn’t until he watched Trey’s shocked expression after he’d offered to buy the boy an oven they’d seen in a shop window on a whim that he truly gained perspective on the matter.
Riddle was grateful for it. He’d been able to grow up in a stable house without wanting for almost anything. And maybe even more so, he was grateful how his mother kept their business personal. Very rarely would they go to expensive parties with high-profile guests or spend recklessly on things that didn’t matter too much. Yes, while they had decor and high quality clothing, the amount of it was far from unnecessary.
However, that was years ago. As of now, Riddle had concerns.
Maybe just a few.
Thinking about it, Riddle wasn’t quite sure when it had started. Maybe it had been the promotion his mother had gotten, or that gathering she’d attended alone months ago. But whatever the reason was, a few months ago, there’d been a shift in his mother’s attitude. Riddle couldn’t exactly describe it, and that alone wasn’t a cause for concern. If there was anything that Riddle had learned while growing up in his mother’s house, it was that her mood could change very easily, very quickly. And when the construction workers had entered their home, and the drawing room had been closed off, Riddle still wasn’t worried.
Riddle liked the drawing room. While the study and library were far more equipped to long, rigorous assignments, writing at the table in the drawing room or reading on one of its many plush couches and chairs was relaxing. His mother allowed it, if not encouraged it, seeming quite proud of the space. A lot of the time, Riddle felt more comfortable there than anywhere else in the house.
Which was why when he entered the room for the first time after it’d been reopened, Riddle was finally concerned.
At the center of the room was a large, glass tube.
While the drawing room was rather large, comparatively so was its new addition. It was completely empty, leading up into the ceiling.
It felt ominous.
For some reason, it felt eerie to sit in the drawing room now. No matter where he was in the room, he could see the tube. Out of the corner of his eye or through a reflection, Riddle was constantly reminded of its presence.
Maybe there was some use for it. It didn’t look finished, after all. So he asked his mother. She only answered with a sickly sweet smile and a short reply.
“It’s a surprise. Be patient, Rose.”
What that meant, Riddle wasn’t quite sure. But for the next week, he spent most of his time in the study and library instead.
And then, Riddle’s mother left for a trip. She didn’t say why or where, only that she’d be leaving in the morning, and that Riddle would be expected to keep up on his studies while she was gone. When Riddle had tried to ask about the trip, she’d only gotten snippy with him, accusing the boy of being nosy and impatient. The only extra information she’d given him was that it had to do with her “recent additions” to the home.
He should wait. he was getting worked up over nothing. She said it was surprise, and here Riddle was, trying to ruin it. He felt bad, as the…whatever had been added to the drawing room probably wasn’t cheap at all. He shouldn’t be so judgmental of an unfinished product, especially a gift. Silently, Riddle resolved to work further ahead than usual in the textbook she assigned him, and to organize some of the papers his mother had been too busy to get to yet while she was gone.
He wondered if she would notice this time, selfishly, before quickly correcting himself.
Nonetheless, Riddle was shocked. Yes, his mother had left him alone before, but it was usually organized. Usually, she would hand him a detailed itinerary of everything he should do each day she wasn’t present. Just a simple rundown of assignments felt off to the boy. Like it had been thrown together as abruptly as she had left.
Days passed. She’d never mentioned how long she’d be gone, but going off of how sudden the trip was, Riddle had guessed that it wouldn’t be for long. It appeared he was wrong.
Guiltily, the boy found himself doing even more extra chores, as if it could make up for something despite the fact that she wasn’t there. She’d never left him home alone for this long before. Had she decided that she was fed up? Would she return at all? Irrationally, Riddle found himself wondering the same questions over and over.
It was incredibly lonely in the house.
For a brief moment, he thought about going to visit Trey and Che’nya. But just as quickly, he’d decided against it. He’d already made his mother angry enough, and that definitely wouldn’t help. It wasn’t like he could hide it either. She’d know. Riddle was sure of it. She always did. Besides, it’d been years. Riddle wouldn’t know what to say. How could he start on an explanation for them, after everything?
So Riddle stayed in the empty house with the empty glass tube. Alone, he was more aware of it than ever. He wasn’t sure what it was about it that creeped him out so much. It got bad enough to the point where about five days after his mother had left, he began avoiding the area of the house with the drawing room entirely.
It’d happened after one incident. He realized he’d placed one of the books he needed in the drawing room, before it’d been renovated. Pushing his superstitions aside, Riddle simply went to retrieve it. It was just a book. He’d be in and out. There was no need for the slight anxiousness he felt pushing the door open, slightly leaning back as he did.
The drawing room was dark, the lights having been left that way for days, the curtains drawn to prevent the furniture from being overly exposed to the sun. Even so, he could still see it. As the door continued to shift open, the new reflected light of the hallway jolted across the glass, a sharp flash cutting across the room. Riddle didn’t move for a moment, before slowly making his way into the room. Despite not wanting to look at it, he also found that he wanted to keep the glass tube in his sight as he shuffled over to the shelf he’d remembered leaving the book on. Riddle was acutely aware of every sound in the room, every possible shift of movement in the darkness around him. His hand finally closing around the book, Riddle immediately beelined for the door.
But suddenly, he interrupted himself, stopping dead in front of the tube. For the first time, he took a closer look at it. He couldn’t make out exactly what material had replaced the floor inside of the tube. The ceiling, however, was easier to make out, replaced with a metal grate that looked like it was able to move on some sort of sliding track. That’s right, Riddle did remember seeing some of the workers on the floor above the drawing room. So there was a way to open it. Riddle didn’t remember what room was directly above this one, his mother had deemed early on that many of the rooms in the house were unnecessary for Riddle’s studies.
But what else could be up there, other than the grate? And what was meant to be put in the large glass container?
It was odd. Incredibly odd.
But it wasn’t anything Riddle should worry about. It was childish. It was probably over nothing. And while Riddle told himself that as he left the room, he checked twice to make sure the door was completely shut before leaving.
It didn’t help anything. Sitting in the study, hunched over a textbook in a posture that would be deemed straight up unacceptable in the presence of his mother, Riddle couldn’t help but feel a deep rooted anxiety form in his stomach. Maybe it was a test. Maybe his instructions had been put loosely on purpose. After all, he should know the rules. He’d been following them, like always.
But last night, he’d gone to sleep a bit earlier than usual.
The morning before, he hadn’t entirely finished correcting his tie before he’d made his way downstairs.
Worst of all, he’d gotten stuck yesterday. Nothing major, only a brief writing prompt in the textbook that he couldn’t work out the best at the moment. Instead of continuing though, he’d distracted himself with organizing the papers for an hour. Even if that alone wasn’t technically against the Queen’s rules, would it still be good enough?
No matter how hurriedly she’d left, Riddle’s mother would know when she got back. She always knew.
Riddle kept a hand halfway stuck through his hair as he propped it up, gripping his pen a bit tighter than usual as he continued his notes. One more page. For tonight, he had to do one more page.
Riddle bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at the page. Earlier today, he’d been passing a window in the hallway upstairs, lingering on it for just a moment. Built on a hill, the Rosehearts’ home stood ever-so slightly above the rest of the town, giving a wide view of just about everything there was to see.
Which of course included the Clover family’s bakery.
He couldn’t even lie about it. Every time he looked out that window, he couldn’t help but dart his eyes over there first. No matter how quickly he looked away, it was almost instinctual. But when he’d glanced out there today, he saw something different.
It was him.
Even from this far away, even after the years it had been, Riddle knew. Standing outside, taller than ever, was a green-haired figure. And even if it wasn’t, Riddle was irrationally certain that it was Trey.
And all of a sudden, a thought came to him. What was really stopping him from visiting him? They only had a few employees at their home, a cook, a maid, and a gardener, who all lived off the estate. Maybe, just this once, he could leave. How did his mother really know what he was doing anyways? He’d always accepted that it was true, but had never figured out how. Riddle was able to leave back then, wasn’t he? Surely, he could explain things to Trey. It’d been years.
Suddenly Riddle had become aware of the wave of doubt that’d come over him, quickly stepping back from the window. It didn’t matter how she found it. She would.
He couldn’t risk everything again.
Lifting his pen from his notes, Riddle paused. He still didn’t understand why the temptation had even come to him in the first place. He’d already debated it with himself. It was wrong, against the rules, and wouldn’t result in anything good for anyone involved. So, he should’ve stopped thinking about it. Riddle wished it was that simple.
Even so, slowly, something strange happened. For brief flutters, Riddle’s mind spaced out, imaging what would happen if he did go to see Trey, or Che’nya too, if he could find him. The scenarios were like a cascade of water, turning from drops to a flood in a moment. He’d apologize first, for all the yelling his mother had done at them and Trey’s parents. He’d apologize for not doing it sooner. One of them would ask if he could spend time with them, and he would say yes. Maybe Trey would offer him a tart again. Maybe Che’nya would show him more tricks. It sounded nice.
But to have any of those things would require breaking the rules. And Riddle couldn’t do that.
He looked back down at the paper, at the line which had remained empty for who knows how long now. Those fantasies were overly optimistic at best, and foolish at face value. It wasn’t going to happen. He needed to get over it.
Was this why his mother was so strict about his time? Was this why his schedule was so specific? Ever since she’d left all he felt was doubt, and an urge to go against the rules. He’d been incredibly off focus since day one.
He could only hope that this didn’t go on much longer. Riddle wasn’t sure how long he could last before he fucked something up.
But eventually, just as abruptly as she left, Riddle’s mother returned. And she wasn’t mad at all.
In fact, she seemed delighted to see Riddle, proudly putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him about how excited she was.
For what, he still didn’t know.
“I’m glad your trip went well, Mother.” Riddle gave a polite nod.
“Thank you, Rose.” It was a brief change, the slightest drop in her smile, the smallest hint of an expectant expression on her face. “I assume you’ve been keeping up on your studies?”
“I’ve completed the notes up to chapter sixteen, Mother.”
“That’s adequate.” She gave a small hum. “Finish that chapter by tonight, then. Strictly, in the study. There’s work that needs to be done on the drawing room.”
“…I see.” Riddle almost had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from asking anything unnecessary. “I’ll begin immediately.”
“Good.” She smiled again. “I’ll see you later, darling.”
Inexplicably, Riddle felt sick.
——————————
It was much harder to concentrate once the noises began. Even from the study, Riddle could hear the sounds of large objects being moved and footsteps. He could only assume that Mother had brought em the construction team again. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to look outside after his mother arrived, so he hadn’t gotten to see what she’d returned with. He did try his best to focus on his work. But no matter how hard he attempted to do so, thoughts of what exactly was being done with the glass tube invaded his mind.
Incredibly frustrated as he was, Riddle pushed onwards. He did have a full chapter to complete, after all, and they weren’t light. The days before, he’d been able to pace himself. He could almost describe it as leisurely, once he began the additional work. Maybe his mother had known.
It could be considered against the rules after all. Even if it was extra, his studies were important to take seriously.
Riddle couldn’t stop the flinch as he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking against the floor beginning to rise from the hallway outside. Was it that time already? Hurriedly, he glanced down at his textbook. There was too much left. There was no way. Certainly he’d not been given enough time. How did she expect him to finish this?
There wasn’t much time to wonder. Riddle began writing furiously, his already aching hand begging him to slow down. His eyes flicked over each line, the boy internally cursing himself every time he jumbled the words, having to reread the section. It still wasn’t enough, of course it wasn’t. He couldn’t let Mother down.
The footsteps were getting closer.
Still not done.
And closer.
Would this even be enough progress to be considered acceptable?
And closer.
What would he do? What would he say?
Until they stopped.
Riddle gripped his pen tighter, waiting for the sound of the doorknob turning, waiting for his mother’s greeting. He was scribbling down as much as he could. He’d failed. There were too many pages left, he’d-
There was the sound of something being placed on the floor, before the footsteps started again, slowly getting quieter and quieter.
Riddle froze, not breathing until they disappeared entirely. Slowly, almost holding his breath, he slid the chair back slightly, quietly creeping over to the door. Cautiously, he opened it. Sitting on the hardwood right outside the study’s door was a small bowl of tomato salad.
Oh.
She must’ve been in a good mood today.
Not only did she bring him dinner herself, he hadn’t been ushered to the dining hall to eat either.
Or maybe she was just busy. Riddle tried not to think about it. Either way, he had more time to finish the chapter.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Three hours, maybe more. The light outside the study had long since faded, providing no indication of time either. But however much time had passed, Riddle was able to finish the chapter. He found himself letting out a small breath of relief, before staring at the textbook and stack of papers in front of him. He wasn’t done. Even if all his mother had assigned was that one chapter, he had leftover time. None of it could afford to be put to waste. So, he flipped to the next page and began scratching down notes again. Halfway through he’d remembered the bowl, quickly and neatly eating to spare himself a lecture on nutritional values again.
Eventually the sharp footsteps returned. Almost involuntarily, Riddle’s grip on his pen tightened again, as the footsteps led right up to the study. The door swung open abruptly, and Riddle could just about sense her presence, standing expectantly in the doorway. Riddle slowly placed the pen down next to his notes, took in a deep breath, then turned to look at her.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Good evening, Riddle.” She nodded approvingly, making her way over to stand behind her son. “And how is your assignment?”
She was only dressed in a fully buttoned up white blouse and black pants, much less formal than what she usually wore. Her dark red hair was pulled into a simple bun. The overjoyed mood she’d had when she’d first returned home seemed to have settled, although she still had more energy than usual, tapping her finger to her folded arms bordering on impatiently.
“I completed the chapter, just as you asked.” Riddle turned his notes to their beginning, allowing his mother to quickly look them over.
She stayed silent as her eyes scanned over each page. Riddle watched her eyes to know when to turn the papers, flipping through the pages one by one. Just as he lifted another, suddenly, his mother’s hand shot down to push it back to the table.
“Wait.”
She pointed to the bottom half of the page.
“These are disorderly.”
Riddle knew. He knew just as well as he remembered frantically trying to scribble them down when he first heard her entering the hallway. He bit the inside of his cheek.
“These are important, Riddle. You mustn’t carelessly rush through them.” She chided, giving him a slightly disapproving look. “They’re for your future. I trust that I will not see something like this again?”
Riddle looked down at the uneven words, where one of them made a small dip beneath the rest, where one letter was slightly slanted.
“You won’t. I was careless.” Riddle gave a small nod. “I apologize.”
She leaned back to a standing position again.
“You can rewrite them tomorrow. It’s almost half past nine, and it is Wednesday, after all. I’ll have Nina come collect your dishes.”
Riddle nodded again, standing up and gathering his notes and the textbook. By Nina, his mother meant the maid, who often stayed the latest out of the three workers.
And by half past nine on a Wednesday, his mother was of course referring to rule 262: If you are not in the company of others, and it is a Wednesday, one must be asleep before half past nine.
Riddle had done enough deviating from the rules while his mother was gone. He didn’t want to add anymore to it.
“I’ll be off to bed. Goodnight, mother.”
Riddle ducked his head again, watching as his mother turned and left the room. At least, to some point, things were normal again
He thought as much, at least, until he bolted up from his bed, eyes wide.
He could hear people shouting. There was the sound of something hitting the ground hard, and the yelling grew louder. More sounds- sounds of a struggle- rang throughout the house. Riddle jumped to grab his magical pen, rushing over to the door.
Had someone broken in?
But as suddenly as the commotion had started, unmistakably, he heard his mother’s voice soaring over the chaos, loud and assertive. And suddenly everything stilled. The other voices vanished. The other noises eventually disappeared from Riddle’s earshot as well. Only his mother’s voice echoed through the house.
Whatever had happened, it seemed like she’d dealt with it, to Riddle’s relief. However, that didn’t stop the urge to go find them anyways. After all, he didn’t even have the slightest idea what was going on.
But his mother had it under control.
So it was fine.
It had to be fine. And he’d already told her he’d went to sleep.
Rule 159: You must never go to find someone you’ve told you’re going to sleep until the next day.
So, Riddle would wait, no matter how little sleep he got that night.
——————————
The night, what felt like one of the longest in Riddle’s life, finally ended as the sun rose. Slipping back into his routine felt comforting after the night’s disruption. Soon enough, he was ready, making his way to the dining hall. Just outside the door, he did a final look over of himself from the reflection of one of the many mirrors in the hall, adjusting his uniform and straightening his posture. Deeming it adequate, he walked inside.
The dining hall was gorgeously lit by the morning light pouring in from the large, grand windows the covered on of its wall, the equally giant crimson curtains pulled aside to frame them. A large, dark wood table ran down the length of the room, a string of decorations placed down its center, holding down the white tablecloth flowing over it. At the very end of the table was his mother, sitting perfectly straight in a plush chair, its top, shaped like a heart, framing her head.
“Good morning, Mother.” Riddle bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Good morning, Riddle.” She stood, rising out of the chair and beginning to make her way towards her son. “I have some good news for you.”
“…What is it?” Riddle asked slowly, almost unsure.
“My surprise is finished.” She smiled, joyful, but not sweet. “You can finally stop your worrying.”
“Oh?” Of course Riddle had figured that the commotion last night had something to do with this, that whatever his mother had been busied with had to do with the drawing room.
But in one night? Immediately after she’d returned? Did whatever it was have to be installed immediately? Or was she just that eager?
“Yes, I can’t wait to show you.” A hand settled firmly on Riddle’s shoulder. “Now, let’s not waste anymore time. Come on, to the drawing room.”
“Yes, mother.” Riddle smiled, although he was more confused than ever.
He followed after his mother through the long halls of their home, thinking all the way. What was important enough to detract from the careful schedule his mother had laid out for him? Second of all, what occasion had prompted this in the first place? Was there one?
Riddle felt his pulse align with his mother’s sharp steps, too caught up in his thoughts to not be caught off guard by her sudden question.
“Although, I do wonder Riddle, what exactly do you think the surprise is?”
Riddle was just glad she was still facing forward, to save himself from the embarrassment of having his mother see him practically jump out of his skin after being startled.
“…I didn’t give much thought to it, Mother. I’ve been focused on my studies for the past few days.” The boy composed himself, quickly formulating a response.
“Hm.” Almost surprisingly, there seemed to be a hint of disappointment in her voice, even though she would usually praise him for being that diligent. “Well, I’ll allow you to guess now. You get three guesses. You may guess either what it is, or its purpose. There can be more than one answer. If you choose to guess the object itself, I will neither confirm nor deny it. It is still a surprise, after all. Your guess can only be in the form of a yes or no question.”
Another stroke of familiarity was slightly comforting.
Games. Riddle’s mother loved games. And they were always best when she made the rules.
“I accept.” Riddle lifted his head higher as she glanced back at him.
She seemed intent on keeping it a surprise, so it was likely that there’d be no penalty for not being able to find the correct answer. And from her behavior earlier, as well as how she designed the rules of the game, she would probably be more pleased if Riddle decided to guess the surprise’s purpose instead of the object itself. With that in mind, even if he didn’t reach a correct answer, his guesses would still have to be adequate enough for what his mother expected of him.
So first, the location, the drawing room. While the room was usually empty, servicing only as a secondary study location for Riddle, when the family did have guests over, that’s often where they would spend most of their time. That’s what the room was for. Riddle’s mother would regale them with achievements and recent discoveries, all over cups of their best tea and a tray of pastries reserved strictly for the guests. Going off of that-
“Is its purpose decoration?”
“Yes.” She hummed in response, a note of approval clear in her voice. “You have two guesses left.”
That was Riddle’s safest bet. Other than that, he didn’t have a clue. It wasn’t as if he could give up now though. Besides thinking about the drawing room itself, he returned to one of the previous topics he’d been dwelling over before. Whatever this was, his mother had wanted to show it to him right away, as soon as she saw him, regardless of their usual schedule. That alone could mean a lot of things, but a lot of it depended on information Riddle didn’t have. Although, if it detracted from his schedule, maybe it also benefitted his-
“Is its purpose educational?”
She tilted her head, seeming to think about it for a moment, expression hidden. Eventually, she came to her answer.
“Yes. You have one guess remaining.”
Riddle bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. With those first two guesses out of the way, he only had one thing to base his last one off of: the glass tube itself. The area above the tube with the grate provided an opening from the top. Whatever was placed inside was viewable from all sides. It was both decorative and educational, it was meant to be observed. The opening was pointedly a grate, allowing air flow.
And suddenly, it made sense. The drawing room had plenty of sun. It would need to be transferred to its area right away. It would fit in nicely with the rest of the decor. It would make sense for it to be in a glass tube, if it couldn’t be with the others, and his mother had always been fond of-
“Is it a terrarium?” Riddle felt a small smile form from both a dash of confidence and relief.
Riddle’s mother gave a small laugh, finally stopping at the drawing room door, resting a hand on its knob.
“Very close.” She looked back to him again, a smile of her own painted across her face. “But not quite.”
And with that, she pulled the door open, stepping inside the room.
Riddle saw the blue light before he got past the doorway. But he didn’t get farther than that.
Because, in the tube, no, not a tube, he realized, a tank, was a mer.
Their tail was long, longer than half of the tank, which was already fairly large. Their skin was a deep viridian, save for some lighter patches. A few black markings spanned their skin, and Riddle could see gills along the side of their ribcage. Sharp fins stood where their ears should be, and were additionally cutting out from their arms as well. Equally sharp teeth were bared, a perfect pattern of spikes. Most strikingly, however, was a pair of mismatched eyes, one gray, and one eerily yellow.
And they were glaring right at him.
Riddle was horrified.
Not because of the mer’s appearance, no, but instead-
“Mother, who is that?”
“A moray eel mer from the Coral Sea.” His mother had only carried her previous energy, pleased as ever. “They’re quite rare.”
“But why is he here?” Riddle shook his head in disbelief, continually glancing back to the mer as if he’d somehow been mistaken.
“An auction by the coast.” There was nothing, no sign that she realized exactly how absurd her words were, in her voice. “The price reflected its rarity, of course. But it did catch my eye. I say it was worth it. Don’t you, Riddle?”
Riddle was in shock.
She’d bought a person
A whole fucking person.
Decorative.
Educational.
Riddle felt sick. An auction like that isn’t just something you find by chance, did that mean she was looking for one? She had built the tank before she left, after all.
But that couldn’t be. Yes, his mother wasn’t perfect. She was strict, sometimes she was quick to anger, and sometimes she didn’t listen to other people’s input, but she wasn’t a bad person. Riddle knew that. She wasn’t. This had to be some kind of mistake.
Somehow Riddle scratched together a glimmer of hope.
Maybe the details about merfolk weren’t common knowledge. There had only been a few books on them in the library, after all. Riddle’s mother was a very busy person, maybe she’d never read them. And the mer in the drawing room hadn’t said a single word yet, maybe there was some sort of communication barrier that’d prevented her from understanding. That had to be it.
Riddle took a deep breath. Now, to explain it.
“Mother.” He started carefully. “I know…I know that you’re…happy, but the merfolk are still people. I believe you must’ve been misinformed, or something of the sort, but they have been classified-“
“Where did you hear that, Riddle?”
Her voice caught him off guard, the proud chipper tone from before gone in an instant.
“From the library. There were a few textbooks on the Coral Sea. They described that merfolk are very similar to humans in many ways, including intellect and emotion.”
The room was silent for a few seconds. Riddle held his breath. He had to be right. He had to be.
His mother turned slowly, walking towards Riddle until there was only a foot of distance between them. His eyes latched onto her hand as it slowly raised, unsure of what she was about to do-
-until it landed to give him a gentle pat on the head.
“I see now. It’s alright, Rose. There’s no need to worry.” She smiled assuringly. “I’ll deal with everything.”
A wave of relief crashed down on Riddle.
“Thank you, Mother.” He was able to form a small smile of his own.
“While I set up the lab, could you gather those books from the library and place them on one of the tables?”
“Of course.” Riddle nodded.
It’d be over. Even if his ominous premonitions about the tank had been right, even if it was worse than he thought, it was alright. His mother would fix it. The mer would go home. Everything would go back to normal.
As they left the room, Riddle glanced back to the mer one last time.
The mer was staring right back, the glare on his face deeper than before. But he wasn’t looking at Riddle, the boy realized. He was looking at his mother.
Riddle looked away, ignoring the eerie feeling in his chest that refused to go away.
It didn’t matter. Things would get better.
They always did.
He just had to wait.
——————————
Five days had passed.
Five days since Riddle had entered the drawing room and seen the completed tank.
Five days since he’d laid out the Coral Sea textbooks out.
Five days since they’d disappeared.
And in those five days, the mer had not been mentioned once, nor had any attempt to release him been made.
Riddle wanted to give his mother the benefit of the doubt. She was very busy. Now that she was home again, she’d been maintaining his usual schedule, that took a lot of her time already, and didn’t account for work as a doctor. She had very little free time. Even so, Riddle would like to imagine if he’d learned that something he’d boughten had the same sentience as him, the issue would be a bit higher on his list of priorities.
He’d worked up the courage to ask her about the textbooks that day, and he was both confused and concerned about her response.
“Those? I finished with them already. You don’t need to keeping worrying over that.”
Confused, because things were still the same. Concerned, because when he went to check the library afterwards, he couldn’t find a single one of the textbooks he pulled out. As rule 388 clearly stated, one must return a borrowed book to its proper place within fourteen hours of finishing one’s work with it.
Maybe she’d only meant that she’d finished reading them, but not using them. But that was also weird to Riddle, since he wasn’t sure why she’d need to keep looking over them, the information was written there as clear as day. And even if she wanted to do further research, shouldn’t she look for another source instead?
(And why would she so adamantly doubt something like this to begin with?)
Riddle frowned, checking the shelf where the final book he’d pulled out should’ve been. Should he ask again? He didn’t want to annoy her, but at the same time, this was a big issue. Honestly, Riddle believed being as worried as he was was justified for the current situation.
He sighed, walking back to the library’s entrance. Surely, she’d understand why he was so persistent about this. Surely, she’d let it slide this time. Just one more question would be fine, wouldn’t it?
As he was about to leave, his eyes caught on the fireplace, which was lit. It was weird, now that he thought about it. He hadn’t been the one to light it, and it usually wasn’t burning unless someone was in the room for a longer period of time, which neither he nor his mother had been.
So then why was it lit?
Riddle walked over to the fire, crouching down in front of it to investigate. Who would’ve been in here? Was it Nina? Riddle was sure she wouldn’t have gotten to this part of the house by now, usually she started on the opposite side. But as his eyes scanned over the fireplace, eventually he got his answer.
There was a scrap of crisp paper on the inner hearth.
Slowly, Riddle picked it up, looking it over. It was mostly charred, with the parts of it that were unscathed by the fire not offering many answers. A bad feeling settling in his stomach, Riddle quickly pulled out his magic pen, carefully casting a water spell to put out the fire. As the last of the flames died down, he looked over the burnt logs. But it wasn’t just logs. Beneath them, more similarly charred scraps of paper were gathered, and some surviving ones laid on the edges. Looking closer, he realized that it wasn’t just logs in the pile. Cautiously, he grabbed one of the singed lumps in the pile. It was charred black, but Riddle could still make out a spine and the ends of a few pages still remaining bound. But he could also make out the cover.
Brief Observations Of The Coral Sea
——————————
“Mother.”
Riddle felt his heart hammer against his chest.
“What is it, Riddle?” Her glance over to him was casual as she finished setting down a bottle of ingredients for the days potionology lesson.
“I went to the library.”
Riddle’s mouth felt dry, very, very dry. He kept his arms folded tightly in front of him, because if they weren’t, he’d have no idea what to do with them.
“We don’t have all day, Riddle.” She chastised, walking around the cauldron she’d set up. “It’s time for your lesson. We do not want-“
“I saw, in the fireplace- you burned them. You burned the books about the Coral Sea.”
Suddenly, Riddle felt like he’d just lit a match in a room coated with gasoline. The explosion wasn’t far away.
“Do not interrupt me.” Her voice boomed throughout the room as she fixed Riddle with a deep glare. “I already said it was nothing for you to worry about. Why must you waste my time and your own on such things?”
Riddle instinctively took a step back.
“But Mother, the merfolk-“
“Enough! Will you really believe just a few books that you read over your own mother? What I did, was a favor to you! Those books only distracted you. Do you think that this is worth anything to your future?” She slammed her hand on the table, causing each jar and bottle to rattle.
Riddle could only stare, eyes wide, frozen in place.
“I expect an answer, Riddle. Is this worth anything to your future?”
Riddle felt like he was being pinned down under a microscope. He recognized this. He knew, that at this point, there was no going further. There was no continuing, nothing. There was no other options. There was only one thing he could say.
“No. No it’s not.”
And like the many times before, Riddle couldn’t meet her eyes as he said it.
“That’s better.” His mother responded sharply, turning her attention back to the table of ingredients. “Now, can we finally stop wasting time?”
——————————
Riddle hadn’t felt like finishing his dinner that night, only barely managing to choke it down. Had she really brushed it off? Had she been so sure that the books were wrong?
Were they wrong? Was there a chance?
It wouldn’t make sense for them to be wrong. For several different textbooks to be complete lies. And wouldn’t it be easy to disprove?
Riddle turned over in his bed.
Was it his fault?
If he hadn’t pestered her so much, would she not have burned the books? Should he have been more careful with how he worded his request for her to look at them in the first place?
But no matter what he thought about, it all led him back to the same conclusion.
He had no idea what he was supposed to do now.
Things didn’t get better the next day. In fact, they got worse. Much worse.
“…Understood, mother. I’ll finish the readings before you return.” Riddle gave her a nod, moving to sit down at the desk in the study.
“Are you reading in here again?”
Her voice had seemed to startle him much more lately.
“I was planning on it, yes.” Riddle turned to his mother carefully. “Is there a problem with that?”
She frowned.
“You used to love reading in the drawing room.”
Riddle stiffened. No words came to his mind. No defense, no excuse, no reasoning, nothing. Even the truth seemed too odd, too indescribable.
“Do you not appreciate what I’ve added to it? It wasn’t cheap.” She folded her arms, irritated. “The Queen’s rules say it is wrong for one to be ungrateful of a gift planned longer than a week.”
“Of course not, Mother.” Riddle bit the inside of his cheek, once again, unable to meet her eyes.
There was nothing else he could say. Nothing that wouldn’t raise her temper to a point where she’d still communicate with him. Even so, the implications of what would come next almost seemed as bad.
“Then go complete your readings in there. I’ll come get you when you’re done.”
The confirmation was only the final nail in the coffin. He watched as his mother left the room, gratefully not even sparing him a glance as she did. He wasn’t sure she’d be pleased with his troubled expression. Did he really have to go? Could he just stay here in the study, heading down to the drawing room when he’d almost finished?
It was too much of a risk. Depending on what his mother was occupied with, the amount of time she’d give him was unpredictable. And if she’d accused him of going against the Queen’s rules, he’d be in a lot more trouble than when he’d simply pestered her.
Riddle took a deep breath.
As usual, he only had one option.
He stood outside the drawing room door a moment or two longer than he should have, almost hesitating. Riddle was somewhat reluctant to grab the doorknob, as if it was ice cold. It might as well have been, leaving his hand frozen in place until he worked up the courage to pull the door open.
It was just for a few hours. That was it.
If the room had made him anxious before, the sudden exposure to blue light filled Riddle with dread now. He kept his eyes down. The hum of the tank filled his ears now, an unsettlingly monotone grating through the air.
Riddle walked through the room as quickly as he could, reaching the armchair furthest from the tank. It didn’t help much. All the furniture had been turned to face it. Maybe the armchair really wasn’t further than any of the other couches at all.
He opened up the textbook in his lap. He kept his eyes strictly trained on the words in front of him. He just needed to focus. He couldn’t think about the tank. He couldn’t think about the textbooks in the fireplace. He couldn’t think about what his mother had said.
He couldn’t.
All he had to do was just read the damn book.
But inevitably, he couldn’t take it much longer. His eyes flicked up darting right at the tank.
The mer was already staring back at him, right up against the glass.
Even though he’d expected to see him, somehow Riddle was still startled. It was strange. The mer wasn’t glaring, but his expression was unreadable. Whether it was hostile, curious, or fearful Riddle had no idea. He only stared. And Riddle stared right back. Neither of them moved. Riddle didn’t think he was breathing.
Someone was in his house.
Someone who shouldn’t be there.
Ever since Riddle had found the textbooks in the fireplace, he’d had no idea what to do. He’d told his mother what he knew. He thought he’d gotten her to hear him out. But it didn’t work. The mer was still here. The mer was still in a tank.
It was wrong. So very wrong.
Riddle had to do something, right? Even at this point, Riddle wasn’t sure how much longer he could go to sleep every night knowing someone was trapped in his house.
Why would his mother do this? Why? There had to be a reason.
Maybe the textbooks were wrong. Riddle’s knowledge was limited, after all, when it came to merfolk. It was the only thing he could think of.
It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all.
But there was a way he could test it right now, wasn’t there?
Riddle froze at the realization.
The mer was right in front of him.
He could know for sure.
Riddle carefully lowered his textbook, taking in a cautious breath and clearing his throat. Finally, his voice barely above a whisper, he spoke.
“Hello.”
It was an ugly thing, uncertain and wavering. But at the time, it was all Riddle could manage. With baited breath, he watched the mer, waiting for anything, until-
The mer opened his own mouth, and Riddle didn’t hear a thing. But it looked almost exactly like he was mouthing out his own “hello”.
Riddle’s grip on the textbook tightened. He couldn’t think at all. He couldn’t dwell on it anymore. Every single one of his thoughts felt like too much. His breaths felt too light.
His mother-
No, no he couldn’t, not-
Did this mean-
So he did the only thing he could think of.
He blocked out everything. Riddle shoved the textbook in his face, forcing himself to focus on the words in front of him. He shut down every other thought he had He couldn’t let his mind drift any further right now, because he knew exactly where it would go.
And above all else, he absolutely could not look past his textbook right now.
——————————
It was hours later, when he’d finally been sent off to bed, that Riddle was finally able to let himself think again.
Hours after he was able to stop panicking, and really think about everything.
Honestly, his test in the drawing room hadn’t proved anything. Maybe the mer had just been mirroring his movements. Maybe there was a chance that his mother was still right.
She wasn’t perfect. But she always had a reason for everything she did. She was strict because she wanted him to grow up to be someone responsible. She was particular about his studies because she wanted him to be able to achieve great things. So there had to be a good reason for this too.
Still, Riddle didn’t want to visit the drawing room again.
He stayed up several hours that night, looking at the ceiling. He could only hope it didn’t show on his face the next day.
But despite all of his wishes, the very next day, Riddle was sitting in the drawing room again.
His mother hadn’t said anything this time. But as he turned to his desk in the study to start his notes, the look she’d given him was enough.
This was what was expected of him now, not an exception.
Riddle held his pen tightly, keeping his eyes trained on his paper. He could only hope that she’d only insist on him spending his time here only long enough for her to decide that he’d been forgiven for being ungrateful. This time, he’d kept his eyes strictly on his notes from the moment he’d entered the room.
Even so, he knew the mer was staring at him. If not from the two incidents before, then from the long, serpentine shadow that was cast over him. Every table in the drawing room was far closer to the tank than Riddle had ever been before. Too close to even try and ignore the overwhelming blue light emanating from the tank. Its hum was even louder than before, the resting drone and the sound of moving water blocking out Riddle’s own thoughts more often than not.
But no matter what, he would not look up.
Half of him wondered why his mother had been so insistent on showing him the tank. Even if it was an expensive “purchase”, why was it so important to her? Or rather, why was it so important to her that he saw it, and was grateful for it?
Riddle stared down at the line on his paper that remained empty, before quickly shaking the thoughts from his head. He was getting too off topic. He just needed to finish these notes. One thing at a time.
That’s all he could do right now.
Even if the giant, swaying shadow lying over him felt as heavy as a tombstone.
Eventually, though, he finished. And eventually, his mother joined him in the drawing room, a pleased expression on her face as she took his notes from him. Riddle suddenly found the carved rose patterns on the table to be very interesting as she checked them over.
“These are far below your usual quality of work.” She frowned, tossing the notes back to the table. “They’re far less thorough. And this sentence is entirely unfinished. This is unacceptable. And wasn’t it not even a week ago that you told me not to expect work like this from you again?”
She sighed, disappointed.
“You have your history lesson next, so we cannot afford to waste time now, but rest assured, you will redo this section tomorrow. Understood?”
This time, avoiding the mer wasn’t the only reason Riddle kept his head low.
“Yes, mother.”
Maybe it was the criticism that’d offset him. Maybe he’d just forgotten why he’d avoided it so much in the first place, for just that moment. But as Riddle was leaving the drawing room, he looked back to the mer.
And after the third time, he wasn’t surprised when he was greeted by a pair of mismatched, downturned eyes. Riddle could almost swear that the gold one was glowing, blending in with the array of electric blue light. As always, they watched him intently, never leaving for a second. Riddle was the one to look away first again, drawn to the mer’s hand, which was held up against the glass. Webbed fingers connected to sharp claws.
Riddle wondered if they’d be enough to shatter the glass.
——————————
The third day was only a question of which was stronger: Riddle’s resolve to push everything out of his mind, or the deep dread he felt about leaving the situation unattended. The benefits of trying to confirm or deny the textbooks were gradually outweighing his former option.
On one hand, if he was able to prove that his mother was right, then this would all stop. He could stop worrying. Things would get better again. Maybe, things would even be normal again.
On the other hand however, if he learned that his mother was completely wrong, then he was stuck at square one.
Either way, being stuck in a constant state of worrying would eliminate any chance of things going back to normal at all.
Riddle gave one last glance to his half redone notes on the drawing room table. Honestly, Riddle thought that the first draft of them hadn’t been bad at all. Yes, it stood out against his usual notes, but he’d still been able to understand it, as well as the material he’d been learning about, even if he’d been distracted. But, if this was what his mother thought was best for his education, then he would do it.
Now, however, he had something more pressing on his mind. Slowly, he put his pen down, rising off of the velvet red couch in front of the table. He lifted his eyes, looking up to meet exactly what he expected would be waiting for him.
There was a certain glint in the mer’s eye as Riddle stood and looked at him. He stilled completely, as if he was waiting for something. It was then that Riddle decided to take a real look at the tank, at everything that made up the picture that horrified him so much. The bottom had been lined with sand, different aquatic plants nestled into it. At least, that’s how it was intended to be. Several of the plants had been torn out of the sand entirely, floating along the water’s surface. Others had torn leaves, and other missing parts. It looked like there’d been an attempt to replace some of the plants, but it didn’t seem to have worked. The sand wasn’t completely smooth either. In several spots, holes had been dug right to the tanks floor.
He’d been trying to escape.
Taking a breath, Riddle drew his attention back to the mer. An overwhelming anxiety ate at his brain as he prepared to speak to the mer again. He just needed to do it. He had to know.
“…Hello. Again.”
This time, the mer didn’t mouth the words back. Instead, he only watched, still waiting, still expecting something.
Maybe. Maybe the books could be wrong.
“If you could answer…there’s something I need to know.” Riddle cleared his throat, as if it would do much for him. “Can you understand what I’m saying?”
The mer seemed to consider it for a moment, but this time, this time, he responded.
The mer gave him a distinct nod.
Riddle’s blood ran cold. Every unfinished thought from yesterday shot back into his mind. Was there anyway to deny it anymore? Could it be chance?
Or was it not?
Because if he was right, then he would need a lot of answers immediately.
On why his mother had burned the textbooks.
On why she wouldn’t address this at all.
On why she’d boughten-
Riddle was yanked out of his thoughts as the mer moved, looking away from him for the first time. He swam up to the top of the tank, reaching towards the ceiling. Or more accurately, closing his hand around the grate covering the tank’s top. The mer looked back down to Riddle, slightly shaking the grate as a gesture.
The mer wanting to be freed was the first thought Riddle had about what he was trying to convey. It was obvious enough.
But then, a second thought came to him. Maybe, if the mer could communicate, it was the water that was stopping him. After all, sound didn’t travel well through it, and that wasn’t even accounting for the thick glass wall between them. However, in the room above, at the grate-
Suddenly, the sound of familiar sharp footsteps pierced Riddle’s ears. It was practically on instinct that he scrambled back to his notes. At the very least, he needed to manage what he could first. That included suppressing the flinch that came with the door opening.
That wasn’t nearly enough time. Yes, his notes were over halfway done, but it wasn’t enough. Not at all.
“Hello, Rose.”
But to Riddle’s surprise, she seemed to be in a pleasant mood again, for the first time in a while.
“Hello, Mother.” Putting down his work, Riddle turned towards her, straightening his posture. “…Is there something you needed?”
“Only some good news.” She sat down next to him on the couch, folding her hands. “We’re having guests over in a few hours.”
“We are?” Riddle tilted his head to the side, surprised. “On such a short notice?”
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Bastos were quite eager to visit, and with that enthusiasm of course I couldn’t refuse them.” His mother hummed joyfully, reaching over and closing his textbook. “Go put this away for now, we have to prepare. Head up to your room and put something nicer on, the Bastoses are very distinguished people, after all. We want to make a good impression.”
“Of course, Mother.” Riddle nodded somewhat hesitantly, still very confused.
“Good.” His mother stood, almost giddy as she made her way over to one of the drawing room’s windows, pulling the curtains open to let sunlight into the room. “I’ll see you soon, Riddle.”
Riddle tucked the textbook and his notes under his arm, moving to leave. It almost felt customary at this point, to look at the mer before he left.
He was still hovering towards the top of the tank, though his hand had dropped from the gate. While he’d looked over to Riddle when the boy had done so, he’d been watching his mother first. The mer tapped at the grate one last time, eyes boring into Riddle as a reminder.
The red haired boy gave him a small nod, and then hurried out of the room.
——————————
Having guests over wasn’t unheard of. Even if it was more common for them to visit others instead, it happened. But usually, their visitors were people the Rosehearts, or at least Riddle’s mother, were familiar with. Riddle had never heard of the Bastoses until today. Usually, even if their visitors were only people Riddle’s mother knew, she would mention them to him at some point beforehand.
It this point, it was another strange thing to add to the seemingly ever-growing pile.
Speaking about his concerns, he hadn’t put much thought into any of his discoveries. He couldn’t. Not now. As long as they were preparing for visitors, his mother wouldn’t let her eyes leave him for a second. There was no way he’d be able to find the room above the tank in that time.
For now, there was still a little bit of doubt left.
Riddle sighed. Things would get better.
It turned out that not hearing about the Bastoses was the least of his issues, as his mother spent the better half of their preparation hours giving him a refresh on etiquette as well as a rundown on the Bastoses. They were a wealthy family, known for their contributions in architecture and construction. The two who were visiting them today were named Alexander and Argine. Argine was from a similarly wealthy family, which had a hand in international trade.
Waiting at the door with his mother, Riddle found himself wishing both that the Bastoses would show up sooner so that the visit could be over, and that they wouldn’t show up now at all. It wasn’t long, however, until they did show up, their knocks on the door answered by Nina opening it.
Alexander Bastos was a tall man, wearing a fine tailored suit with an embroidered scene of a rose garden on it. Riddle had to chastise himself for thinking it was tacky immediately, but even he couldn’t argue about that for too long. Argine Bastos was similarly gaudy, dark hair bundled up on top of her head, held together by countless hairpins, their tassels swinging like a department store’s worth of wind chimes whenever she moved. Her white dress was paired with a black jacket, held together by buttons that sparkled like jewels. Riddle wouldn’t be surprised if they were.
“Dr. Rosehearts, it’s nice to see you again!” Argine threw her arms up, tone high and bubbly.
“It is pleasure to see the two of you also.” Riddle’s mother gave a polite bow of her head. “I welcome you to my home.”
“We should thank you for inviting us.” Alexander took a step deeper into the house, returning her nod. “This is a lovely place out here. It must be so peaceful.”
“Thank you. It is a quiet-“
His mother was caught off by a sudden high gasp, and Riddle watched with dread as Argine looked right at him.
“Oh, this is your son, right?” She rushed up to him, squealing. “Was it Ronald? Or Richard? Or was it-“
“Riddle.” His mother corrected, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is my son Riddle. Greet them, darling.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs Bastos.” Riddle nodded, repeating the rehearsed greeting.
Honestly, it felt like whiplash. His mother had not batted an eye at Argine cutting her off or at her loud voice. In fact, she didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Well, he’s a cute kid.” Argine hummed, returning to her husband’s side. “And how polite too. From everything you’ve told us, it sounds like your business will be in good hands in the future.”
“Indeed.” Riddle’s mother let her hand fall back down to her side. “Now, it’d be rude to keep you standing here for much longer. By the Queen’s rules, we will provide you the greatest hospitality we can offer. Come with me, let us go to somewhere more comfortable.”
“Yes, of course.” A strange glint appeared in Alexander’s eye. “I’m very curious to see what you have inside this house.”
“Me too.” Argine giggled, a grin overtaking her face. “I’ve been so excited this whole time.”
It felt very surreal, walking through his home with two complete strangers behind him. Everything about that day had been weird, weird enough to have Riddle believe that he could wake up at any moment, sitting straight up in his bed only to remember that his mother hadn’t returned from her trip, and that no glass tube had been added to the drawing room. But at this point, Riddle had given up on wishing for that.
Something was off about the Bastoses. Riddle gathered that much. They were wealthy, but not in the way that the Rosehearts were. No, what Riddle saw, from their outfits and the way they talked about their home, was that they seemed to be on an entirely different level. So why had they come here to visit?
Riddle didn’t like them. Yes, it was rude to judge off of appearances, and yes, they were guests, but neither of those facts did anything to help him. Argine’s overly excited attitude was strangely unnerving, and even Alexander’s careful silence and ever present smile immediately made Riddle wary of the two.
While he’d been on autopilot throughout the entire walk, he was suddenly thrust right back into the driver’s seat as his eyes focused on the door they’d stopped at.
The drawing room.
Suddenly every one of Riddle’s thoughts came to a crashing halt. Yes, the drawing room is where guests spent their time, that was its purpose, but now things were different. The tank was in there. Was she really going to show it off and pretend like it was normal?
Or, could this be a good thing? To some extent, his mother clearly respected these people, enough to have them over on such short notice and not to mind at all when they interrupted her. If they saw that the mer was being held here, and they told her how wrong it was, surely she’d listen. Then, this whole thing would be over. The mer would be released, and things could go back to normal.
But as soon as his mother’s hand closed around the door knob, Riddle’s blood ran cold as he realized that wasn’t what was going to happen. Above everything, his mother had emphasized the cost of the mer and the tank. The Bastoses wouldn’t be excited to see the interior of a home that was most likely worth far less than theirs.
There was only one reason why they could be here.
Riddle barely blinked at the fluorescent blue light that fell over the group, instead, slowly glancing back to the Bastoses. The wonder-filled expressions on their faces as they looked at what Riddle already knew was behind those doors was enough of a confirmation.
“Come, take a seat.” Riddle’s mother held a hand out to the couches and armchairs that surrounded the tank.
Riddle didn’t move, watching the Bastoses walk past him, the realization still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t until he caught the pointed look from his mother that he started moving again, stiffly making his way over to the armchair on the other side of his mother.
“Oh, wow!” Argine clasped her hand together, looking at the mer in the tank with wide eyes. “Well, I’ve never seen one quite like this before.”
“An eel, correct?” Alexander mused, standing up to walk closer to the tank. “What type?”
“A moray.” A satisfied expression was painted onto Riddle’s mother’s face as she answered. “From the north Coral Sea.”
“The north.” Argine sighed wistfully. “Why, now I wish I had gone. I’ve only seen a few bids from there, and I haven’t won a single one. You’re so lucky, Dr. Rosehearts.”
Alexander stepped closer to the tank, looking over its contents. The mer had already been keeping his eyes on them, hanging in the water, almost as if he’d been frozen. His shoulders were slightly hunched, the horizontal position he was in putting his head level with his torso, long tail falling behind him.
“You picked well. The color contrasts nicely with the decor.” Alexander nodded, a slight smirk on his face as he looked up at the mer. “Good quality too.”
The moment Alexander took another step forward, the mer snapped into a flurry of movement, spined fins flaring, rushing right up to glass with frightening speed, sharp teeth bared. Muffled as it was, the piercing hiss the mer made was chilling enough, a clear warning. Riddle flinched, a stab of fear striking him in the chest.
Alexander didn’t appear to have taken the same message. Instead, he laughed, airy, and light hearted, as one would at a child’s antics.
“Ah, you can tell this one is fresh.” He glanced at the holes in the sand amusedly. “Things just keep getting better for you, Dr. Rosehearts. Young ones last longer too, although I’m sure you’ve already been told so.”
“Of course I took everything into consideration.” Pride gleamed in Riddle’s mother’s eyes. “For a purchase such as this, I would settle for nothing less than perfection.”
“If that isn’t the spirit, I don’t know what is.” Alexander tipped his head to her, making his way back to sit next to Argine.
His wife was still looking at the mer, something akin to a pout on her face as she watched the mer survey them, fierce glare not yet fading.
“Ah, this just makes me miss the old days.” She sighed, leaning an arm on her husband’s shoulder. “None of ours are like this anymore. They’ve all gotten so quiet in the past few years. Things are much less exciting. Say, Alexander, the one in the billiard room, how long do you think it has left? We should start looking at auctions again.”
“Of course, of course.” Alexander put a reassuring hand on her arm. “There will plenty of time to make plans later. Let’s focus on our host for now. After all, I’d love for us to get to know each other better.”
Just like that, Argine’s smile returned. She sat up straight, looking to Riddle’s mother excitedly before going off on some tangent, some random string of questions.
But Riddle wasn’t paying attention anymore.
What was this?
What was happening?
Was this all something common? Was that why his mother had been so quick to shut down his concerns?
At the same time, however, Riddle couldn’t let go to his previous thoughts about the Bastoses. It seemed as if they were in a world of their own, floating somewhere far above the drawing room.
Regardless, one thing was clear. Whatever the truth was, Riddle’s mother was involved in this world now, and Riddle didn’t think she wanted to leave.
Riddle felt his hands tighten into fists, the tiny sound of straining leather only seeming to reach his ears.
Things were supposed to get better.
So why did it feel like they would only get worse?
He needed answers. He needed answers now. Riddle couldn’t bear another moment of sitting in the dark, waiting for things to finally make sense.
He glanced back to the mer, who seemed to have occupied himself with pacing restless circles around the tank. Catching Riddle’s eyes, he paused, swimming up to the surface of the water, pointedly looking at the grate.
As if Riddle could forget.
——————————
The hallway was dark, only barely lit by whatever light was still left long after the sun had set. After an hour or so of talking, a dinner Riddle had barely been able to stomach, and a few chess matches between his mother and Alexander, accompanied by a few, very unbalanced, matches between Riddle and Argine, the Bastoses had left. Not long after that, Riddle’s mother had sent him off to bed.
But here Riddle stood, in the hall on the second floor. His mother always told him how important it was that he stayed in bed and got enough sleep. It wasn’t like he was sacrificing any tonight though.
Carefully, the boy walked down the hall, taking each step like the floor beneath him was glass, subject to shatter at any moment. What if his mother found him? Surely he was breaking a number of her rules right now. Turning back wasn’t an option though. So Riddle swallowed it down, continuing.
Layout-wise, the room above the drawing room was somewhere along this hall. He just didn’t know which one. But there was something he could do.
Riddle took a deep breath, and listened as closely as he could.
The hum of the tank. The sound that’d haunted him since that first day. Slowly, Riddle began to walk towards it, hearing as it got louder, and louder, and louder, with every step he took. His head screamed at him to turn back, but it was too late. His hand was already on the doorknob. The familiar electric blue was splayed out beneath the door, rippling as the water he knew was beyond it moved.
This was it.
Whatever the truth was, he’d find it here.
Slowly, heart pounding in his ears, he turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, the door sliding open easily. It didn’t stop Riddle from jumping at the slightest freaks the hinges made, even if he knew that realistically, no one could have heard them.
Immediately, Riddle recoiled. The tanks lights were the only ones in the room, like a flash bang to Riddle’s eyes. Blinking, he adjusted, carefully pulling the door closed behind him so that the light wouldn’t bleed out into the hallway, visible for anyone to see. Even then, he didn’t feel much safer.
The room was small, barely the size of a handful of closets cobbled together. The first half of the room was lined with shelves holding buckets and other things Riddle couldn’t make out in the dark. The other side of the room, however, was completely empty. Except where the dark, tiled floor, cut off to be replaced by a metal grate, stretching over the tank Riddle has already become morbidly familiar with.
Everything was so much louder, the filters and machines hooked up to the tank, the buzzing of the lights illuminating it, the lapping of water against the grate, it felt like each individual sound had been placed in his ear drum. And there, just at the spot he’d seen the mer tap before, a section of the grate was lifted. Riddle could see the rails that allowed the hatch to slide open, along with the handle he’d have to use to do so.
He could see the figure of the mer below, waiting under the water. Riddle couldn’t see his eyes yet from where he was standing, and could only assume the mer couldn’t see him.
This was it. From here, he couldn’t turn back. From here, he couldn’t ignore anything.
From here, things ended, and things began.
Riddle took a deep breath, and stepped right up to the grate.
He watched something like recognition flicker in the mer’s mismatched eyes as Riddle came into his view. The rigid position he’d been floating in before softened just a bit. Still, the mer waited under the water, looking up at him.
Expecting something.
Riddle had to be the one to move now. His legs feeling like led, he stepped forward, slowly sinking to a kneeling position. It took him a minute to gather the courage to reach his arms forward, grabbing the grate’s handle. His eyes stayed on the mer the entire time, not sure if he would swim away, jump up at him with his teeth bared, or anything else. Instead, he just waited, almost patient. So, like ripping a knife out from a wound, Riddle pulled the hatch open.
Finally, the mer moved, rising too fast for Riddle’s liking, but far from fast enough to scare him. As the mer’s head emerged above the surface, Riddle observed the mer closer than he ever had before. Teal, choppy hair, with only one long streak of black, stuck to the sides of his head, weighed down by water. Two darker markings swept under each of his downturned eyes, like a carefully painted decoration. And if Riddle had ever been stunned by the mer’s appearance before, it was worse than ever now, as he was pinned by the dull glow of the gold eye and its grey counterpart.
Hoping he had any voice left at all, Riddle opened his mouth.
“Hello. I came up here.”
A beat of silence followed, enough pressure on Riddle’s back that he was sure he’d snap in half right there. Then, as sudden a strike of lightning, the silence was broken.
The mer’s mouth stretched into a lazy grin, displaying his pointed teeth, eyes crinkling closed as he did.
And then-
“I almost didn’t think you were gonna. Hello, lil’ Goldfish.”