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Chapter Text

Atem lay like fallen leaf atop the water, letting the tide roll him in a languid arch as the heat of the sun gently caressed his skin. The sun hung high in the center of the sky, blessing the world beneath her with wonderful warmth and light that made the water shimmer like glass, not a single cloud daring to interrupt her performance.

Heaven.

It was during these delicious moments of solitude that Atem found himself wishing the hardest. He wished for the waves to carry him like seaweed trapped in a riptide, tossing him with enough force to throw him like a rag doll. It didn’t matter where he landed. He just wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but here.

He’d give up his momentary Heaven for that.

The unmistakable spit and sputter of a boat’s engine startled Atem out of his stupor, and he instinctively dove back into the ocean in a graceful backwards arch. From this high up he could still see the sun waving at him from above, her image distorted in the wobbling surface of the water. Without thinking about where he was going, he compressed himself into a ball and sprung forward, his fins propelling him towards a familiar sight. He couldn’t help but let the excitement takeover, a wide grin spreading across his face.

The small smattering of rocks made for the perfect hiding spot. It offered enough coverage where he was sure to remain unseen from the beach and passing bouts, but not so much that he’d miss all the action. On quieter days he’d been known to chance getting closer to the shore- less people and all that. But it was the middle of summer and the beach was flooded with colorful towels, umbrellas, and people, and the sea freckled with boats. He resurfaced as inconspicuously as possible and pulled himself up onto the flattest of the rocks, tail still in the water in case he needed to make a quick escape.

Atem watched from his hiding place as a small motorboat passed by, carrying with it the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter and friendly conversation. From his vantage point he could see a joyful scene: a cozy family of four enjoying their afternoon on the sea, the parents lovingly draped across each other at the helm while their children played with what looked like toy swords. His heart warmed. Cute.

Sighing to himself, Atem made a pillow with his forearms and laid his head upon it as he watched the scene before him become much more interesting within his head. He wanted so badly to lift himself up on to the highest point of the rocks and wave, but he begrudgingly quelled the urge. Just being up here at this time could get him into huge trouble if the wrong people found out. Still, he found himself dwelling on what the children’s faces would look like if they saw a real live merman. He smiled dumbly at the thought.

“Hey! Owwww! Mom, Jack hit me!” the smaller of the two children squealed, flailing away from her playmate and falling flat on her bottom. Big, watery tears bubbled up from the corners of her eyes as she wailed another, “Owwww!”

“Baby,” the little boy spat.

His counterpart narrowed her eyes at him, looking somehow ferocious despite her tears, “what did you call me?”

“Hey guys, let’s be careful back there-“

Just as their father had started towards them to referee their squabble, the little girl hurled herself at her brother with as much force as she could muster, sending him backwards into the guardrail with a loud thud. He wailed and threw his arms up above his head in an attempt to steady his balance, throwing his toy sword into the air. They all watched it fly into a graceful arc before hitting the water with an unceremonious splash.

Atem’s eyes widened and a devious grin overtook the soft smile. Jackpot.

Being much less careful than he should have been, Atem jumped from his hiding place and made a beeline for the toy, diving into the sea in a flurry of fins and water spray that was far from inconspicuous. He was thankful that the sword- well, at least that’s what it looked like to him -gave off a soft red glow from its blade, making it easier to spot as it sunk towards the deeper. He reached his arms out in front of his him and pushed, the muscles in his tail flexing and propelling him forward with a whoosh and torrent of bubbles. He grabbed the toy sword by the hilt and came to a stop, the momentum pushing him backwards as the dark colors of his fins fanned in front of him like a plume of seaweed.

He could feel his heart racing as he examined the sword. He waved it around a few times, marveling at the way the red light seemed to trail itself like a ghost from the underwater drag. If he listened carefully enough, he swore he could hear it making strange, metallic noises as he swung it around. It was a peculiar toy indeed.

He knew from past experience that the lights and sounds wouldn’t last long underwater, but nonetheless it’d make an excellent addition to his collection. It’s luminescent blade almost reminded him of the ruby-encrusted scimitars the princess of Ishtar’s guards wielded.

Atem’s stomach sank like an anchor into the sea. The princess of Ishtar.

Poseidon damn it all. He’d been so wrapped up in people watching that he’d almost forgotten, and now he was late. Mahaad wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

Atem started towards the palace with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

“Forty-three minutes.”

“What, did they demote you to time keeper? Give it a rest.”

“Forty-four minutes.”

Atem huffed as he tugged on another set of bangles, careful not to catch the webbing between his fingers on the jewels. He’d made it back to the palace in record time, only stopping to drop his new treasure off at the grotto, but Mahaad had been unimpressed. He stood at the door to Atem’s bed chamber with his arms crossed.

“Um,” Atem struggled with the clasp behind his neck, “can you help me with this?”

Mahaad rolled his eyes before swimming over to Atem, taking the back of the golden collar from his hands and clasping it with ease. He’d always been better at these types of things than he was.

“Maybe if you’d gotten here earlier you would have had more time to get ready,” Mahaad said with a tight-lipped smile. He patted him on the back just a little too firmly.

Now Atem rolled his eyes. He reached down to the vanity to grab his favorite earrings; the gold and sapphire fans he’d inherited from his mother. Though they leaned a little too feminine for his father’s liking, the weight of them hanging from his ears had always offered a specific kind of comfort that he desperately needed right now. He could see Mahaad’s reflection in the mirror watching intently as he slipped the earrings on, all harsh lines and angles that towered over him like a suit of freshly polished armor. The wall of tension between them betrayed Mahaad’s well-practiced neutrality.

Atem whipped around to face him, “what? Stop looking at me like that.”

Mahaad pursed his lips, purple fins fanning behind him in the gentle current. He was the perfect image of composure. The only reason Atem knew otherwise was from growing up together, learning all of Mahaad’s tells as he came up with them.

An aggravated sigh tore through Atem’s frown, “look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m late. I just got distracted is all.”

Mahaad’s shoulders fell, if only a little. One of his eyebrows quirked upwards, “distracted? On what’s probably the second most important day of your life?”

The second most important day of your life. Atem’s stomach went cold, like he’d swallowed glacier melt. He folded his hands in front of his face and hunched forward, closing his eyes. For the second time that day, he found himself wishing that he could be anywhere else right now. Anywhere but here.

Yes. Atem knew just how important today was. In fact, he could argue that he understood its importance better than anyone else.  But the importance that he knew it to be was one of misery. Today was the start of the rest of his life; a life he had no say in, and a life he certainly didn’t want. It was a means to a premature end.

“I know,” Atem finally mumbled. He opened one eye to see Mahaad approaching him, his expression having softened just a little bit.

Mahaad placed a hand on his shoulder, “Do you really? Because in my opinion, I feel that if you truly understood its importance, you would have been on time.”

The hand on his shoulder was meant to be comforting, but to Atem it felt like a vice, a way to keep him from escaping. Since officially taking the position of Royal Advisor, Mahaad’s priorities had changed. Too bad Mana couldn’t be here instead.

After a minute of awkward silence, Mahaad grimaced and let his hand fall from Atem’s shoulder, “Very well. I’ve said my piece,” he started for the door, “I’ll let your father know to expect you in no more than ten minutes, and might I suggest you conjure up one of your award winning excuses and an apology. We’re all waiting on you.”

Atem waved him away without a word.

After savoring a sweet moment of silence for himself, Atem looked over his reflection in the mirror one last time. The gilded jewelry and the many colorful jewels he’d draped himself in made the fluorescence of his scales impossible to miss, the gold reflecting back in shades of orange and blue. Even without his crown he looked like royalty, the colorful spikes of his hair a crown in their own right. And yet he still couldn’t sell it.

It was the look in his eyes that gave him away.

By the time Atem finally made it to the ballroom they’d started the mock procession without him. The palace ran a tight schedule that halted for no one, not even the prince and king-to-be, as Mahaad and his father had oftentimes reminded him.

Time is precious. Don’t waste other peoples time. Yeah sure. But what about Atem’s time? If he had feet, he’d surely be dragging them.

Atem was about as inconspicuous as a clown fish as he burst through the large stone doors and swam up the aisle, waving sheepishly at the various members of the royal court and guests who’d arrived from Ishtar. Some of them glared, but for the most part they all just looked at him as if they were shocked he actually existed. He made a point of smiling at all of them, sharpened teeth barred. May as well make an impression.

They’d already started the rehearsal for the wedding procession, his future bride and select members of her court lined up at the steps before the throne. He could feel everyone staring at him, including his father, so he held his head high as he came to a stop in front of the princess. After years of bullshitting his way through royal duties, he knew that the most important thing was to act as if nothing was wrong. Feign confidence.

Atem forced a smile at his future bride as if he were right on time, “hello.”

“Hello,” she whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Despite his reluctance towards marrying her, even Atem couldn’t deny how beautiful she was with her deep complexion and dark hair, her fins white as the clouds. But regardless of how beautiful she was, she was still a stranger.

“Prince Atem.”

At the sound of his name being spoken, Atem turned to face the high priest Kasmut, stationed at the stone pulpit. He had donned full ceremonial garb for the occasion, making him look old and withered beneath the pounds of canvas and golden chords.

“How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence only, oh,” the sarcasm is Kasmut’s tone was biting, “nearly an hour late.”

From the corner of his eye, Atem could see Mahaad pointedly sneering at him from beside the throne. So much for ten minutes.  

“My apologies. I lost track of time,” Atem shrugged.

Kasmut maintained that expression of perturbed calm that only a man of the cloth could manage, “Indeed. Well, provided that you are ready, may we proceed with the ceremony?”

“I get a choice?” Atem smirked, speaking without thought. Not a second later he heard a cough from the throne’s direction, making the briefest of eye contact with his father. Even from afar the king’s presence towered over him, the firm set of his jaw and carefully maintained gaze sending an unpleasant tingle up Atem’s spine. He immediately straightened and cleared his throat, “again, my apologies. Please continue.”

“Thank you, your Highness. Let us pick up where we left off.”

Atem suppressed a sigh. The solo rehearsals he’d been forced into over the the last few weeks had lasted for hours, so he could only imagine how long this would go on for. Fantastic. He clenched his fists in a futile attempt to stay still and maintain his posture.

Kasmut droned on with the sacred scripture he’d picked for this occasion, his monotone perfectly off-putting. Atem found himself hyper focussing on the gray tone of his words, trying his hardest not to zone out. The language sounded foreign yet familiar, and he only understood bits and pieces of it. It sounded ancient. Atem guessed that it must have taken hours to dig it out of the palace archives, seeing as how Millennium hadn’t married of one of its heirs to that of another kingdom in centuries. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all.

Atem was only vaguely aware of Kasmut requesting he and the princess hold hands, his mind adrift. It was then that Mahaad appeared beside them, ceremonial rope in hand for the hand fasting ritual.

Just the sight of the golden chord made Atem feel nauseous. He knew what it symbolized after decades of attending weddings within the royal court; undying devotion, new beginnings, unity, the list went on. But to him, trapped within the prison of the ballroom with a stranger he had been sentenced to spend the rest of his life with, it felt like the end.

Absentminded, Atem folded his hands over the princess’ as Kasmut chanted over them and Mahaad began the binding. He closed his eyes in deep concentration, the golden chord shimmering and glowing softly as he tied intricate knots around their joined hands. Atem felt a sudden surge of envy at the display; he’d never been able to do magic despite his royal lineage, and yet here Mahaad was doing party tricks with ease. He shook the thought off. Now wasn’t the time, especially when he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, scrutinizing, burning holes into his scales. He hated this.

“Your Highness?”

“Hmm?”

“This is her marriage to you so you will be leading the vows,” Kasmut said as if he were speaking to a small child, “you remember them, yes?”

“Yes,” Atem was rolling his eyes before he could stop himself. He made the effort to stare into the princess’ eyes like he was supposed to, but it was as if his subconscious was convinced that as soon as he made eye contact, he would be trapped. He settled on staring at the circlet that adorned he forehead and cleared his voice, “I take your hands within mine, to have and to hold for centuries time. I welcome you into my heart and into my kingdom. May our marriage be as prosperous as Millennium and our rule hereafter. May our hands be forever bound, Princess… Princess,” he paused.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Atem tried his best to maintain a straight face as his throat went all scratchy, his mouth contorting into a grimace despite his efforts, “beautiful princess…princess…princess…um.”

The princess in question stared at him as if he’d grown a second fin on his forehead. Their was no avoiding eye contact now as he stammered an idiot. The heat began to rise around him as if he’d been dropped into a pot of boiling water.

This was bad. Very bad. He didn’t need to look at his father to know that he was probably planning his execution and funeral right about now.

Atem pursed his lips before he could embarrass himself further. The ballroom had fallen silent.

“Princess Ishizu,” Kasmut said dryly, “her name is princess Ishizu.”

“Princess Ishizu,” Atem repeated, feigning confidence with a grin. Maybe he could still save this. At least the princess, Ishizu, looked like she was struggling not to laugh at his stupidity, “May our hands be forever bound, princess Ishizu.”

As the princess, Ishizu, began her portion of their play wedding vows, Atem made the mistake of sparing a glance towards his father’s direction. If looks could kill, Atem would have been hung up in Davey Jone’s locker in an instant.

As soon as the wedding rehearsal and faux reception ended, Atem got out of there as fast as he could. As if he hadn’t been dreading the event already, the name debacle had left him tense and anxious and the last thing he needed was a conversation with his father.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Atem slipped through the door that led to the hallway through the servants quarters. If he was lucky, he could sneak out through their back door while his father busied himself with farewells and proposed meetings before their guests retired for the evening.

“Atem.”

He’d just started down the hallway when a low, commanding voice sounded from behind him.

So much for escaping.

“Father,” Atem greeted King Aknamkanon with a nervous smile. He stood with his shoulders pulled back into a perfect ‘T’ and head held as if he were balancing a stack of books. As if his presence alone wasn’t  intimidating enough, the king was nearly twice Atem’s size and wielded a massive three-pronged scepter. He stared Atem down as if he were about to skewer him like shrimp. He gulped.

“You forgot the princess’ name,” it was a statement, not a question.

Without thinking, Atem babbled, “I was overcome by her beauty and I-“

“Atem.”

“Yes, father,” Atem meekly tucked his hands behind his back, “I’m listening.”

“You forgot the princess’ name. You forgot the name of the woman to whom you’re betrothed, the princess of Ishtar, the nation we are forming an alliance with. You forgot the princess’ name, princess Ishizu, in the middle of your own wedding rehearsal, where her name had been spoken at least a dozen times,” he could see his father’s knuckles turning white around his scepter, his free hand balled into an equally tight fist, “you forgot Princess Ishizu’s name. You made a complete fool out of yourself, made a mockery of the entire royal court and myself, and embarrassed the kingdom of Millenium!”

King Aknamkanon had always possessed the talent of keeping his wrath at a low heat, just hot enough to be felt but not burn, but Atem might as well have been set on fire by the metaphorical flames bursting from his father’s mouth. Atem reeled, any thought he’d previously had reduced to ash. He was sure that anyone left in the ballroom had heard the whole thing. The king stared at him expectantly.

“I, well,” Atem sputtered, struggling to regain his fine motor skills , “In my defense-“

“In your defense!” his father mocked, exasperated, “Fine, fine. I’ll indulge you. What’s your ‘defense?’”

“I was nervous,” Atem shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Atem watched as his father flipped through a mental rotary of emotions, pausing at ballistic before moving on to disbelief, and pausing again at murderous before finally settling resignation. He sighed and placed a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Poseidon be with me.”

Atem heard the long pause that followed as it was intended. A continuation of his father’s silent prayer: Poseidon please give me the strength not to murder my son.

“Atem, you sat through countless council meetings discussing this wedding an its importance. You know what’s at stake here, and somehow, despite multiple discussions regarding our alliance with the kingdom of Ishtar and your marriage to their heir, you managed to forget her name?” his father spoke, tone flat yet sharp as a blade, “do you have any idea how insulting it was to the court of Ishtar to present their princess to you as your bride, and you couldn’t be bothered to remember her name? Have you stopped to consider how humiliating such a careless mistake was to us?You made a mockery of our proposed allegiance. You’re lucky her father didn’t call the whole thing off.”

Atem perked up at that last part. He must have made a face as his father immediately scowled at him, “I know what you’re thinking. And yes, you’re still marrying her. Thankfully.”

Atem deflated like a puffer fish, unable to stop himself from muttering, “It was an accident.”

“It was a careless mistake,” his father corrected, “one that can’t happen again. Our way of life is at stake.”

Atem’s chest tightened. He knew just how important this wedding was for the survival of their people, but it didn’t make it any easier. He looked down and began to count the floor tiles, stone cracked and color faded from years spent at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

“Atem, do you have any idea the importance of your position?”

Atem remained silent. Great. Here comes the heir lecture again.

“You are the heir to the throne of Millennium, the oldest and largest kingdom of the seven seas,” his father began speaking as if he were giving a well-practiced presentation, “for thousands of years, we’ve existed as a beacon of power and achievement for merpeople across the world. And right now, they need us more than ever. And we them.

“The humans and their careless greed are destroying this planet at an alarming rate. Parts of the sea have become uninhabitable. You know what happened to the peoples of the north and south. They can no longer survive in the only home they’ve ever known. And us, well,” the king placed what was meant to be a comforting hand upon Atem shoulders, but it took all of his self-control not to shrug it off, “the oil rigs are causing their own set of problems for us, aren’t they?”

Atem didn’t have anything to say. He knew the oil drilling was a problem, poisoning not only their people but every other creature that inhabited the surrounding waters. It was awful.

“Millennium can no longer stand alone, Atem. Our beacon becomes slightly dimmer with each passing year. We need to join forces with our brothers and sisters from other kingdoms if we wish to survive. Our alliance with Ishtar is of utmost importance,” the king continued.

“I know, father.”

“They need access to our glowing algae, and without their potions and salves more of our people will die. And perhaps,” he paused, “with our combined military power we can figure out some sort of solution to the root cause of the problem.”

“I know,” Atem failed miserably at not sounding like a petulant child.

Silently, his father removed his hand from his shoulder and backed away. He took a moment to study Atem, as if he were really looking at him for the first time in a long time, and it made him feel… well, weird. He wished he could dissolve into sea foam and float up to the surface where he belonged.

“Why were you late to the rehearsal?”

Uh-oh.

“Um, no reason.”

His father narrowed his eyes, “Atem.”

“I was busy… practicing my vows,” Atem stumbled through the excuse, trying to smile again, “I lost track of time.”

“Practicing your vows?” he repeated, “you were late because you were practicing your vows and you still managed to forget the princess’ name?”

“Yes,” Atem feigned innocence. A beat of silence.

“You went up to the surface again, didn’t you?”

Atem’s stomach did a backflip. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. His cheeks began to wobble as his smile faltered, “what? No! That’s not allowed. Come on dad, I’m not that irresponsible.”

A far off look overtook the king’s eyes, as if he were time traveling. His stoic expression fell in a way that only Atem was familiar with after having experienced it so many times over the last few decades. He straightened in preparation.

“Atem, we’ve had this conversation countless times,” his expression was firm, but the edges of his words were tinged with a deep sadness. He sighed, voice just above a whisper, “you’re too much like your mother.”

At the mention of his mother, Atem’s carefully constructed posture collapsed like a sandcastle. He folded his arms across his chest as if he could hold himself together that way. Talking about her, about her death, and about his relation to it, made him wish that he could crumble in on himself like dry sand.

“It’s for the safety of everyone that we no longer venture up to the surface. Especially now, given the damage humans have caused to our way of life,” Atem listened quietly, not looking up at his father as he spoke, “not to mention whatever those strange, electrical box things they all have now are capable of. If we’re really and truly found out, that could be the end of us,” he paused, “my son… you are the last gift your mother gave me before she was taken from us. By them. I’d never be able to forgive myself if you met the same fate.”

Atem forced himself to look up at his father. The king gazed down at him with a tenderness he rarely saw, as if he could see the woman they both lost in him if he tried hard enough. Atem had always looked more like her, inheriting her size and stature along with the striking fluorescent coloring of his scales. His chest ached for both of them.

Atem knew how deeply it hurt his father to talk about his mother in this context. He knew how much he resented Atem’s open-secret, how much he was fascinated with the world beyond the water and those who inhabited it. He knew his fathers fear that one day, his only son, the last piece of his wife he had left, would be torn away from him the same way that she was.

“Promise me that you’ll stay away from the surface, Atem,” the king’s expression solidified again, any remaining bit of weakness hardened like stone, “Again. I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise that I’ll stay away from the surface,” the lie was automatic, one he’d repeated over and over again like a mantra in the years since his mother’s passing. A promise he broke into smaller pieces with each passing decade, putting it back together each time he got caught, only to smash it with even more force the next time. It was a cycle they’d been trapped in for nearly sixty years.

His father looked as if he didn’t believe him, having heard the same lie more times than he could count, but this time there was a subtle light in his dark eyes. He wanted to believe him, and that was enough for the both of them.

“Good,” his father nodded, “I hope that after today you’ll take your responsibilities as prince and heir to the throne more seriously, given the circumstances?”

“Yes, father.”

“Very well,” he waved him off, “you’re free to go.”

“Thank you,” Atem turned tail and swam towards the opposite door as fast as he could.

“Atem?”

“Yes?” He spun around, trying not to sound exasperated.

“Do not let me catch you in a lie again.”

The water between them felt colder than usual. Atem nodded, “yes, father.”

Chapter Text

After the day’s explosive failure, Atem had resigned himself to spending the rest of the evening sulking in his bedchamber, only coming out for dinner when the time came. Though the Pacific Ocean was always dark, when nighttime rolled around it was as if someone had dipped an ink soaked paint brush into the water. The throws of summer had pushed back darkness’ decent upon the sea, but when the night finally arrived it acted as a reverse alarm clock for the citizens of Millennium, and Atem was no exception to that unofficial rule. Most of the time.

He’d just started getting ready for bed when a frantic knocking sounded at his door, and before he knew what was happening, he and Mana were hugging walls and dark corners as they snuck out of the palace. She’d managed to lure him out of his cave by dangling the promise of a special surprise in front of him, so here they were.

“So… you forgot her name?” Mana had taken the lead tonight, and Atem didn’t need to see her face to recognize the impish grin. Like Mahaad, he’d known her long enough to be familiar with her tells.

“Word travels fast, huh?” Atem replied dryly. Being a high ranking general’s daughter, Mana hadn’t been required to attend the wedding rehearsal, but her father had been. He wasn’t surprised that she’d already heard the whole sordid tale.

Mana turned to look at him with a wry smile, round face scrunching as she struggled to bite back laughter, “Oh yeah. Mahaad told me all about it. You know, it’s probably a good thing I wasn’t there. I would have laughed and made the whole thing so much worse.”

“Mahaad?” Atem stopped, “when did you talk to Mahaad?”

“I dunno, a few hours ago? I hung out with him for a little bit in his study this afternoon,” Mana shrugged, “he seemed pretty annoyed about the whole thing.”

Atem huffed and picked back up behind her, “I’m sure he was.”

He didn’t bother to mention that Mahaad hadn’t thought to check up on him after the disastrous wedding rehearsal.  In fact, he had the sneaking suspicion that he’d probably checked up on his father instead. He supposed that his duties as royal advisor trumped their friendship these days.

“I invited him to come tonight.”

“Really?” Atem couldn’t help but sound hopeful.

“Yeah, he said no, though. I guess he has ‘important work to do’ tonight,” Mana said with a pair of air quotes. They both understood that was code for ‘I can’t go with you guys because there’s no guarantee that you two won’t do something stupid and get us all in trouble.’

Knowing that talking about Mahaad and the way he’d been acting less like a friend and more like a manager would just make him upset all over again, Atem changed the subject, “so, where exactly are you taking me?”

Mana turned to face him as he caught up to her, blue eyes twinkling, “oh, you’ll see. Race you to the surface?”

“You’re on,” Atem matched her grin with one of his own.

In a flurry of fins and laughter they ascended the depths of the Pacific, murky water giving way to shimmering moonlight atop the water’s surface. The pair broke through with a splash, the warm, summer breeze greeting them like an old friend. Not a single cloud dared to cross the sky that night, leaving her to bless them in her deep blue, star bedazzled glory. The moon smiled down at them, and Atem found himself smiling back.

“I win,” Mana announced, sounding out of breath.

“What?” Atem’s gaze darted back down from the sky, his competitive streak taking over, “no, I win.”

“Nope. I had my hands up. They surfaced first.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why? Was I supposed to come out of the water tail first instead?”

Instead of a real response, Atem slurped up a mouthful of water and spat it straight into her face. She shrieked.

“Disgusting! You’re disgusting!” She sneered, splashing him the proper way, with her hands.

“Oh come on. I’ve done much worse-“

A loud pop sounded from above them, and Atem looked up just in time to see a plume of red and gold sparkles light up the sky, followed by a crackle of silver that burst like bubbles. His mouth fell open, their squabble forgotten, as the night sky become ablaze in a display of fantastic colors and lights he seldom witnessed. Hues of gold, green, silver, blue, and red reflected across the water as if it had entered a competition with the sky, a rainbow of beautiful light and sound surrounding them from all sides.

“Wow,” Atem breathed.

“I know,” Mana replied, sounding equally in awe, “surprise.”

“How did you find out about this?” he asked, sparing only a millisecond to look at his best friend before his eyes were immediately drawn back up to the sky, where he was greeted by a crackling shower of gold and purple.

“I overheard a group of humans talking about it when I came up here a few days ago,” Mana explained, shrugging, “I guess there’s some big party happening tonight.”

Atem could only manage a slow nod as she spoke, still enamored by the fireworks. In that moment, watching the sky come alive with his best friend, it was as if that entire terrible day had never happened.

It was towards the end of the display that the a low rumbling caught Atem’s attention. He peeked over his shoulder and an excited smile tugged his cheeks upwards. There was a boat. A big boat. And where there were boats, there were humans.

“Hey, check it out!” Atem said, swiveling around so he was facing the boat’s direction, “the fireworks are for them, right?”

Mana turned to look as well, “Oh hey! Yeah, I guess so. I don’t see any other boats out right now.”

Mana appeared oblivious to what Atem was hinting at, so he laid it on a little thicker, “hmm, must be a pretty big party if they have their own fireworks…”

Okay, now she she understood. Mana raised an eyebrow at him, “you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?” Atem said, pushing himself forward a few feet, “it’s dark enough that they won’t be able to see us if we’re careful.”

“Mahaad would have a conniption fit,” Mana snorted. That wasn’t a no.

Atem smirked, “good thing he’s not here then, huh?”

“Good point,” she agreed, paddling tentatively in his direction.  

“Bet I can beat you there.”

“Bet you can’t.”

By the time the two made it to the boat, the bet had been all but forgotten in their efforts to keep from being seen. Luckily it was anchored in a spot where shadows cast by the bluffs nearby offered a perfect hiding place. They silently swam to darker side of what Atem now realized was actually a ship, catching a glimpse of the letters “KC” and what appeared to be a small illustration of a dragon across the starboard side. He didn’t quite understand the difference between a ship and a boat- they were both used for sailing, after all -but Mahaad had insisted multiple times that they were not the same thing. Whatever. Ship or boat, the party happening up on deck looked like a good time. Twinkling lights hung from the railings and people in fancy dress chatted gleefully over fine looking glasses of dark liquid. A string quartet was posted closest to the bow in front of a small dance floor, and a few scattered couples swayed  to the soft music.

“Do you think it’s a wedding?” Atem questioned, eyes glued to the dance floor. He watched their legs and feet mostly, marveling at the way they moved perfectly in time with the music. Was that something they had to learn, or did it just come naturally?  

Mana clicked her tongue, “I don’t think so. From what I remember hearing it’s some sort of charity gala.”

“Mmm,” Atem hummed, not entirely sure what that meant. He scanned the less populated areas of the deck for anything he might have missed, and that was when he noticed a trio of humans in matching outfits clustered around a series of carts piled high with clean tableware. One of them, a tall blonde with an accent Atem couldn’t place, laughed boisterously at something the brown haired one said, while the shorter of the three shook his head.

Huh. He was peculiar.

The shortest of the trio looked completely out of place as he filled a tray with glasses, not because of his height but, well… there was just something about him. He carried himself in such a way that made him seem even smaller, despite the wild flashes of blonde and purple in his dark hair that haphazardly stuck off his head. Had he done that on purpose?

Atem found himself unable to look away, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. He’d never seen a human with hair like that before, in fact, his hair sort of looked like Atem’s. It was as if he were silently shouting both look at me! and don’t look at me! at the same time.

“That one has weird hair,” Mana pointed out, shaking him out of his daze.  

“Yeah I know,” Atem concurred, “I thought humans didn’t have hair colors like that.”

“Mahaad says that humans can dye it now. Maybe that’s what it is.”

“Do you believe everything Mahaad says?” Atem jeered. He didn’t hear Mana’s response, instead refocusing on the ship, or rather the people on the ship. Or one person. He was sure that the other two guys had also busied themselves with preparing drinks, but all he saw was the short one with the weird hair, filling crystal flutes with bubbling golden liquid. He smiled at something the blonde one said, his round nose scrunching up like a baby seal’s. He laughed, and the center of Atem’s chest stuttered.

“Whoa,” Mana elbowed him and pointed at someone descending the steps to the upper level of the superstructure, “look at that guy!”

Reluctantly, Atem looked up where she was pointing to see a young man in an extravagant looking white jacket, equally as handsome as he was tall, all long legs and broad shoulders. A pair of serious looking men dressed entirely in black trailed behind him, that combined with the air of importance that surrounded him made it clear that this was his party. Atem spared a glance at Mana, who was staring at the guy slack-jawed as if she’d never seen a man before.

The trio at the drink cart stood military straight as soon as their host approached them, regarding him with polite nods and hellos. He stopped in front of the shortest and said something to him before continuing on his way towards the party. Though the human tried his best to keep it together, his face had turned redder than a sea star at the attention. Once tall, dark, and rich was out of earshot, his two compatriots looked at each other with mischievous grins before taking a shoulder each and shaking their shorter friend.

“I think he likes you, Yugi,” the brown haired one laughed boisterously, loud enough for Atem to hear, if just barely.

Yugi. The strange human’s name was Yugi.

Atem chuckled as Yugi swatted his friends away, the expression on his face telling that he wanted to do much more damage than that. His two friends patted each other on the back before each taking a tray of drinks and heading off towards the crowd. Yugi followed suit, gathering his own tray in an impressive feat of balance and disappearing into the fray of suits and twirling gowns.

Beside him, Mana chattered on about the beautiful colors and silky material of the dresses the women wore, but Atem only heard bits and pieces of her gushing. If he hadn’t been so short, Yugi wouldn’t have been hard to keep track of as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd. Still, Atem managed to follow him by keeping his eye on the top of his hair, watching in quiet admiration as he effortlessly balanced the heavy-looking tray and offered polite smiles and refreshments to partygoers. Atem suddenly felt thirsty, something he rarely experienced as a merman.

It was then that a gaggle of children broke free from the dance floor, nearly knocking Yugi over in their haste as they pushed through the crowd. He just barely managed to catch the tray of drinks before the whole thing came crashing down on a little girl that’d tripped over his feet.

She laid on the deck in a crumpled pile of pink frills and wails, and once Yugi realized she was there he rebalanced the tray and knelt down to check on her. He pressed a careful hand to her shoulder and softened his gaze as he spoke to her, Atem reading the words “are you okay?” on his lips.

The little girl blubbered something at him between hiccups, and Yugi’s eyes narrowed as he tracked down the group of children who’d nearly taken him out. With his freehand he helped the girl to her feet with a reassuring smile; a smile that was quickly replaced with a determined look as he hurried after the children who’d congregated at the stern end of the deck.

Their laughter quickly faded into silence as Yugi came to a stop in front of them. They stared up at him wide-eyed as he expectantly held out an open hand. There was a moment of reluctant silence before the tallest of the bunch, a boy with a sour look on his face, stepped forward and handed over a stuffed dolphin. After rescuing the captive toy, Yugi turned around, the stoic lines of his expression morphing into a triumphant smile.

The little girl watched from a safe distance as the event unfolded, a big, toothless grin overtaking her face as Yugi approached. Atem could feel himself melting as Yugi returned the stolen toy, dissolving like sugar into water when she cheered and wrapped her arms around his legs in a haphazard hug. When Yugi smiled and ruffled her hair with a subtle fondness, the sugar water boiled.

“Aw,” Mana cooed, having watched the scene before them just as carefully as Atem had, “that was sweet.”

“Yeah,” Atem nodded, feeling warm all over. It really was. He kept  a close eye on Yugi as he bid his tiny new friend ado and headed back into the crowd.

A few minutes later the string quartet’s song faded into silence and they took their final bow, followed by a round of polite applause. The subdued appreciation quickly turned into excited cheers as the tall man in the white coat took the stage, closely followed by his entourage of black suits. He too held a glass of bubbling liquid, and after tapping the glass with an object Atem didn’t recognize, he gave the crowd a moment to settle down before starting a long, boring speech.

While Mana listened intently as he droned on about “philanthropy” and his “multi-million dollar” company, Atem’s attention remained stuck on Yugi. He watched as he slipped out from the crowd with a now empty tray and headed back towards the drink cart. A dejected sigh escaped Atem’s lips as Yugi wheeled the cart around to the port side, disappearing behind the superstructure. A small part of him wanted to swim over there to continue his staring, but he thought better of it after realizing he’d have to explain it to Mana.

“I bet once he’s done they’re going to set off more fireworks,” Mana whispered excitedly as the speech continued to dull his senses, “that’s usually how these types of things work.”

Atem  plastered on the most genuine smile he could muster. He’d much rather watch his new human fascination with the weird hair than more fireworks, “I hope so,” he lied.

The pairs attention was stolen by another round of applause, but Atem could have sworn that he heard something strange along with it. Or well, more accurately, he felt something strange.

It was as if the current had taken on a different rhythm, pressing into his chest with an unnatural swirling sensation that hadn’t been there before. He spared a glance at Mana, unsurprised to see that her eyebrows knitted and lips pursed in confusion.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yes,” Mana nodded, voice low, “do you…?”

“No,” he paused, another tremor passing through the water, this one stronger than the first. It was then that he realized it was coming from the ship, the current rippling around it as if it were struggling to hold something back.

Something was wrong.

The earsplitting screech of metal against metal shocked them both as the ship rocked back and forth, scaring its passengers into a nervous silence. A loud hiss sounded from below the water, followed by a powerful bang that shook the air around them.

In his shock Atem gulped down a deep breath, his face contorting as he swallowed. The air tasted wrong; like sour and rusted metal and burning.

Mana could smell it too, her nose scrunching up as she started an unconscious backwards retreat, “I think we should go.”

The ship went dark before Atem could answer, sending the party into a loud, panicked frenzy. A few beams of light illuminated the crowd through shouts of “please remain calm” and “everyone stay where you are.”

An unnatural silence fell across the water, as if the sea was anticipating something, a knowing quiet that spoke volumes.

“Atem,” Mana hissed, pulling on his arm with fear-fueled urgency, “we need to go.”

Atem remained still, thoughts nonexistent, as if something deep inside him had dropped an anchor in this place and time.

“Atem!”

Mana’s scolding was sliced apart by what could only be described as a horrifying, inhuman scream; metal and fire and electricity composing a cacophony of unbearable noise that assaulted his ears. He yelped, instinctively clapping both arms over his head and flailing backwards. His mouth fell open into slack-jawed horror as a tower of red and yellow flames burst from behind the bridge and licked at the sky like the tongue of a hungry monster.

The ship erupted into chaos then, humans running as far up the bow as and as far way from the fire as possible.

Mana’s cry of, “we need to go! Now!” was barely audible over the terrified screams of people fearing for their lives and the crash of Atem’s heartbeat. All he could do was stare with wide, frightened eyes as hoards of partygoers scrambled to throw on life jackets and clung to their loved ones. The ship had begun to list on the stern side, the ocean lapping at its prize like a starving animal.

“ATEM!” the shriek that tore from Mana’s lips, all fear and trepidation and panic, shook him enough to look at her, “we have to get out of here!”

Atem’s gaze ping-ponged between her and the ship, knowing that she was technically right, but morally wrong. The anchor refused to withdraw itself from the pit in his stomach.

“We can’t…” Atem sputtered, words finally returning, “we can’t just leave! They need help, Mana!”

“Atem- Atem!”

She’d barely gotten his name out before he leapt into action, diving deep into the dark of the ocean and gliding towards the ship. He already knew what she was going to say; it’s too dangerous, we can’t risk being seen. He didn’t care. A life lost was a life lost no matter the species, his father’s rules be damned.

Atem surfaced with a gasp just in time to witness another explosion, and he could have sworn that the smoke was peppered with ribbons of colorful sparks. The ship wailed in protest, the bow lifting up towards the sky in an accusatory point.

There was a whoosh and a slap as one of the lifeboats launched from the starboard side, incoherent wailing and fearful murmurs sounding from it as it started in the opposite direction. He looked up, spotting the second lifeboat tilted at an awkward angle as they attempted to fill it. He recognized Yugi’s friends helping in the effort to load people into it, both repeatedly looking over their shoulders as if they were looking for someone.

Yugi. Atem’s already thundering heart beat grew louder. Where was Yugi?

His thoughts were interrupted as a deafening crack and boom tore through the night, and Atem ducked back into the water only milliseconds before he would have been hit by flying shrapnel. He darted forwards, only able to see where he was going thanks to the orange glow of the fire, and again just missed being hit by the second lifeboat slamming into the water. But this time it wasn’t just a boat that came down; there were people too. Screams were muffled by the aquatic barrier as they plummeted into the dark water, kicking and waving their arms furiously at the shock of the cold.

Atem moved without thinking. He grabbed a small child by the waist and pushed them towards the nearest lifeboat, only stopping long enough to make sure they’d been retrieved before turning around to grab another person. It was as if an invisible force had taken over him, not thinking but just doing. He had to get as many people out of the water and out of danger as possible, taking only the slightest precaution to keep from being seen. It didn’t matter anymore, not as much as they did.

The metallic shriek of metal and cracking wood came to a crescendo as the bow peaked in a final salute before the ship tore itself in half, ocean swallowing the stern in one greedy gulp. He was only barely aware of Mana as she helped, following his lead and plucking humans up and rushing them to safety. It was like he’d been sucked up into the eye of a hurricane, his sense of time and space washed away with the storm, only coming to when it spat him out onto a rocky outcrop a little ways out from the wreckage.

“What the hell just happened,” Mana panted, pulling herself up onto the rocks and laying flat on her back. The last of the lifeboats had disappeared around the other side of the bluffs, taking with them the fear of being seen.

“I think the ship sank,” Atem groaned.

“Really? I thought that was the grand finale of that fireworks show.”

Atem was too tired to laugh. His body felt like a rubber band that had been pulled too tightly, his muscles burning from overuse. Tonight had been the most exercise he’d gotten since the mandatory military training he’d been forced into a few decades ago.

The silence sat between them like a welcome guest as they reclaimed their strength along with their thoughts. The moon had traveled well-past the center of the sky and hidden herself behind a newly formed blanket of clouds, as if she too were exhausted from the night’s turn of events.

“I can’t believe we did that,” Mana exhaled, rolling over on to her side to face Atem. A devilish grin crept across her face, “your father would have us executed if he found out.”

“Ha,” Atem balked, clapping a hand to his forehead, “yeah, well. Maybe he’d execute you, but I still have to get married.”

Mana laughed up at the sky in wordless agreement. They both knew what happened next. Once they’d rested a bit more they’d have to go home and pretend this whole thing had never happened. No excitedly telling everyone about about the incredible disaster they’d witnessed or how many lives they’d saved. No one could know.

Well, maybe they could tell Mahaad, but given his recent track record that probably wasn’t such a good idea.

Atem pulled himself up to a sitting position on the rocks, taking a moment to survey what was left of the wreckage. The sea had claimed most of the capsized ship, only part of the bow still visible as scraps of metal and wood floated lazily around it. The ship, or rather, what was left of it, groaned as the current pushed it to and fro. It was an unnatural sound that made Atem’s skin crawl. The one good thing to come out of this was the opportunity to comb the wreckage for treasure. He smiled at that thought.

As Mana hummed and stretched and prepared for their departure, Atem found himself watching the debris that circled what was left of the ship. He could just barely make out the shapes in the dark, warped metal illuminated by what little moonlight peeked out from behind the clouds. He squinted. One of them looked rounder than the others, lumpy even, as if something was laying on top of it.

And then it moved.

Atem’s heart dropped out of his chest. Though he could just barely make out it’s silhouette, something, or rather someone, had taken refuge within the carnage. Despite their best efforts, they’d missed someone, and the lifeboats had already left. The panic that rose in Atem’s chest drew his heart back up into his throat. He whipped his head around to look at Mana, “I think someone’s still out there!”

“What?” She looked at him as if she’d just woken up from a nap. He wanted to shake her.

“We missed one,” Atem exclaimed, this time much more frantic. He turned to look back at the person they’d somehow missed and pointed, dread washing over him when he realized that the person was gone, the wreckage they’d been strewn across wobbling from the sudden shift in weight.

“Shit,” Atem hissed.

For the second time that evening, there wasn’t  time for an explanation. He launched himself back into the water and rocketed forward with as much strength as he could muster, his eyes not adjusting fast enough to the darkness he’d just plunged into. He could barely see anything as he whipped his head back in forth in search of the person they’d left, fear and guilt mixing a sickening cocktail in his belly.

Finally, shrapnel and manmade wreckage took shape within his vision, and he spotted the dark silhouette of a person a few yards ahead. He raced forward, grabbing them by the armpits and shooting up and out of the water as fast as he could.

It was only when they broke through the surface that Atem got a good look at the forgotten human. His entire chest tightened.

It was Yugi, cold and wet and unconscious and not breathing.

Not breathing.

Oh gods. No.

With a with newly strengthened resolve, Atem arranged himself so that Yugi’s head would stay above water and out of harms way, and began the swim to the nearest shoreline. He had to get him to the beach. If he could just get him there and get him breathing, everything would be okay. It had to be.

“My gods,” Mana exhaled, suddenly appearing beside him, “Atem, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He snapped. There was no time to argue, “help me get him to safety. Please.”

Though he could sense her reluctance, Mana came up alongside him and helped to hold Yugi up, taking Atem’s lead. They swam in uncomfortable silence until the beach came into view, empty and dark.

He turned to look at her, saying, “I’ve got it from here,” trying to sound confident despite the nerves that made his voice shake, “stay back here and keep watch?”

“Keep watch? What do you mean?”

“I’m not leaving until I know for sure that he’s alive.”

Mana knitted her eyebrows, lips pursed as she tried to come up with a response, “You can’t be serious.”

“I know,” he sighed, exasperated. He’d heard it all before, a million times over, “I know. Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Albeit hesitant, Mana hung back as Atem approached the shoreline, the water becoming shallow and giving way to sand more quickly than he’d expected. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d visited the shore, and the strange sensation of dragging himself up and out of the water was made even more awkward by having to maneuver Yugi. It was difficult, but he managed.

Atem laid Yugi down across the sand as gently as possible, as if he were handling something fragile. He’d pulled him as far up the shore as he could without beaching himself in the process, thanking the moon for the low tide. The sky was still dark and dotted with stars, but the horizon had begun to turn a hazy fuchsia as dawn approached. He didn’t have much time, but Atem couldn’t stand the thought of leaving without knowing for certain that his rescue mission hadn’t been for naught.

With far less trepidation than he should have had, Atem angled himself so that he was hovering over Yugi, looking down at him from above. Was he hurt? Was he alive?

Without a second thought, Atem cautiously pressed a palm to Yugi’s chest, hopeful he’d find some sign of life. His clothes were cold and wet and much too thick to feel anything, and Atem’s mouth went dry. Had he been too late? He gazed down at Yugi with wide, concerned eyes, sadness looming over him like an oncoming storm.

He set his jaw. No. He wouldn’t even consider the thought.

Atem carefully brushed a few strands of sopping blonde hair from Yugi’s forehead, his worry suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that he’d never seen a human up close like this before. He’d only ever watched them from afar or through discarded photographs that ended up in the sea, never close enough to touch, to poke and prod at like the foreign objects he treasured.

Atem’s lips fell open in silent awe as he let his hand wander, gently running his fingertips across Yugi’s temple to the square line of his jaw, finally stopping at his chin. His skin was soft. Smooth like nothing he’d ever felt before and soft in a way he couldn’t describe. He was enamored, hardly conscious as his touch ghosted the plush of Yugi’s lips, full and pink and warm.

Warm.

Atem’s own lips spread into a hopeful smile. His fingers drifted to Yugi’s Cupid’s bow, and though it was faint, he could feel the gentle exhale of breath from below his nose. He was alive. He was alive and beautiful and human.  He pressed a palm to Yugi’s face, smiling down at him like he was the most precious treasure he’d ever found, so inexplicably grateful that he was alive to see him up close like this. Close enough to count his eyelashes and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks, to watch the way his nostrils flared when he breathed and the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

Atem was alight. He wanted to stare at Yugi for hours and study every quirk and movement that made him different from everything he knew. Everything he’d been forced into against his will. He didn’t want to leave.

And so he didn’t.

Moon river, wider than a mile.            
I’m crossing you in style some day.

It was dark.

Wherever Yugi was, he couldn’t see a thing.

He didn’t know how long he’d been there, like time didn’t exist, as if he’d tripped and fallen into sleep without realizing it.

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your w ay

The last thing he could remember was the scream of tearing metal and then pain. White hot pain that erupted like lava from a volcano, destroying all that dared get in its way. One moment he’d been wheeling a drink cart to the galley, and the next thing he knew was, well… nothing really.

It was dark.

Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see  

But then he heard it.

The voice was quiet at first. Little more than a whisper that tickled the tips of his ears. But with every word it grew a little louder. A little clearer. Jumbled letters stringing themselves into syllables and then words, words that arranged themselves in such a way that they sounded like what he’d imagine the ocean would if it had a voice of its own. Sweet and deep and melodic, cool water against his skin on a hot day. Heavenly.

We're after the same rainbow's end
Waitin' 'round the bend

Yugi felt like he’d been sucked up into a giant vacuum, the dark off his vision going light around the edges as he ascended. There was a pop and a ringing in his ears, and he suddenly felt very cold and wet, a full body tremor over taking him as he coughed. He spat out a mouthful of salty water, suddenly aware that the voice wasn’t the only thing he heard anymore. It had been joined by a the backup band of the wind and sea, the voice metamorphosing into a song.

My huckleberry friend
Moon river and me

When Yugi opened his eyes he was met by the face of a stranger, features ethereal and alien in comparison to his own and yet somehow familiar. He gasped, and the stranger’s song ended with a smile that made his stomach do a backflip. Cold, slippery fingers graced his cheeks as he stared up into inhumanly large, burgundy eyes. The stranger grinned, revealing a mouth full of impossibly sharp teeth, and yet Yugi wasn’t scared. He was enamored.

Was he dreaming?

Yugi opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, the quiet only I interrupted by the crush of waves and overhead calls from morning gulls. He blinked, testing the theory that he was dreaming, and yet the stranger remained. An intimate moment shared in enthralled silence before being stollen by the call of his name from down the beach.

Eyes heavy, Yugi blinked again, head rolling to the side to see as a small crowd materializing from the morning mist. In his stupor he recognized Joey and Tristan, but the others were strangers in uniforms his foggy brain couldn’t quite place.

Stranger.

With as much speed as he could manage, Yugi turned back to face the stranger hovering over him, but they were gone. Vanished as if they’d never been there in the first place. His head swam as he sat up, pain zipping up the back of his skull, but the effort was for nothing. All that greeted him was an empty horizon backlit by the sunrise.

He was alone.

Chapter Text

The week after the accident felt like it’d been dredged up from Atem’s own personal Hell.

His days were filled to bursting with painfully dull conferences with Ishtar’s highest ranking officials. He was forced into chaperoned activities with his future bride and mandatory lessons in song and dance for the wedding. Not to mention meals he was under familial obligation to eat with his father.

The list went on. And on. And on.

From sun up to sun down Atem was kept busy to the point of exhaustion and by the time he had any semblance of free time his energy was spent. He hadn’t left the palace in days, and he was convinced that it was all part of some master plan his father had composed to exhaust him into submission. The wedding was less than ten days away and Atem could feel himself becoming more restless with each passing minute. The palace felt more like a prison than it usually did, and he was desperate to break free.

Atem’s opportunity to escape came in the blessing of one of Ishtar’s officials falling under the weather, cancelling a long trade meeting that’d been scheduled for that afternoon. He’d made a point of slipping out before his father could pile more busywork on him, only stopping to find Mana and tell her to meet him at the kingdom gates ASAP. They’d yet to explore the shipwreck, and the anticipation over what they’d find there left him practically buzzing.

After a quick detour to his bedchambers to grab a netted bag, Atem made a mad dash to the kingdom gates. Nothing else had been planned for that afternoon aside from the trade meeting, but he wasn’t about to risk getting roped into an unnecessary lesson, or worse, another date. He shuddered at the thought.

Ishizu was fine, really, she was. She was kind and had an easy energy about her that made him feel a little less anxious during the rehearsals and forced outings. He could even see himself becoming friends with her under normal circumstances. But getting married? Absolutely not. Just thinking about the wedding made his mood sour, and he tried his best to push the thought away as he approached the gates.

The effort ended up being futile.

When Atem finally made it to the spot they’d agreed to meet at, he was surprised to see Mahaad at Mana’s side. He’d shed his usual royal advisor garb for something less formal but still held his staff at his side. While he didn’t necessarily look unhappy to be there he didn’t look excited, either.

“Mahaad? What are you doing here?” Atem spouted, sounding more accusatory than he’d meant to. He and Mahaad had only exchanged curt pleasantries since the wedding rehearsal.

“Guess who also has the afternoon off?” Mana announced, jabbing Mahaad with a playful elbow. His lips twitched up into what almost looked like a smile, “I practically had to drag him out of the library. Can you believe he was going to spend his surprise free time studying?”

Yes, actually. He could. Atem tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace, “you forget who you’re talking about.”

“If you don’t want me here, I can leave,” Mahaad said flatly.

Atem felt a little guilty at that, but managed to maintain his expression, “oh come on. You know I’m joking.”

Mahaad just stared at Atem through squinted eyes, looking at him as if he were waiting for something. Well whatever it was, Atem had no intention of giving it to him. Mana looked between them as if they were two seagulls about to get into a fight over a scrap of bread.

“Are we sticking to the original plan?” Mana asked, sounding only a little exasperated.

“Yeah,” Atem replied. Mahaad had gone with them to shipwrecks before and he didn’t see why it would be a problem now.

“Good. Then let’s get going.”

They made the trek to the shipwreck joined by an uncomfortable silence even Mana’s usual silliness couldn’t shake off. Mahaad and Atem barely looked at each other as they trailed behind her, tension palpable between them. Luckily the trip didn’t take very long.

The once mighty ship laid across the ocean floor the same way it had gone down; violently split in half and surrounded by scraps of metal and surface world debris. The rocky canyon it’d ended up in was mostly uninhabited save for the occasional school of fish, and with that came an eerie quiet that felt slightly unnerving.

“Wow, this ship looks modern,” Mahaad mused, “It must have gone down recently.”

Atem caught Mana’s gaze with wide eyes, but she looked completely unfazed. She shrugged at him. Had she not told Mahaad the whole story?

“Mana, how did you find out about this shipwreck?” Mahaad questioned, sounding only slightly suspicious.

“Oh, you know,” Mana said, “word travels fast back home. I heard some of the palace guards talking about a big wreck that happened a few nights ago and I wanted to see it for myself.”

“Interesting,” Mahaad considered her explanation for only a second before gesturing towards the stern’s remains, “it looks like that end sustained the most damage. I’m going to go check it out.”

With that, he swam away, and Atem’s chest finally unwound itself. He turned to look at Mana.

“So…”

“So?”

“Are we going to tell him?”

“Pffft,” Mana flipped her tail fin in a dismissive wave, “not if we don’t have to.”

Atem considered her for a moment. On one hand, he wanted to tell his other best friend what had happened that night, but on the other hand?

“Do you want to tell him?” Mana prodded, sensing his hesitation.

Atem watched Mahaad as he inspected the ugly scar on the port side of the stern, twisted metal reaching out towards him like a claw. He ran an inquisitive hand across its jagged surface as if he were examining a foreign specimen, tapping the tip of his staff against his chin in consideration. A quiet melancholy settled upon Atem as he watched him.

In the past Mahaad would have wanted to hear the story of the ship’s demise right down to the tiniest details. He used to be just as fascinated by humans as Atem was. He’d be equally as delighted whenever Atem found some new and exciting piece of treasure from the world above. They’d spend hours together combing the same shipwrecks again and again, just in case they’d missed something. Mahaad would even join him in his frequent trips to the surface to people watch.

But once Mahaad was tapped for the position of royal advisor, he started to pull away. He’d deserved it of course; his dedication and natural talent for magical studies and political happenings had caught the king’s attention from an early age. Mahaad had taken full advantage of the resources he had access to thanks to his mother’s position maintaining Millennium’s royal archives, and his hard work had paid off tremendously.

The decay of their carefully cultivated friendship had started slowly. A few cancelled explorations here, a jab about responsibility and accountability there. By the time it escalated to snide remarks and favoring the king’s word over all else, the rot had spread to the point of no return.

Shaking his head as if he could shake the past along with it, Atem finally spoke, “you know what? It’s probably for the best that we don’t say anything.”

Mana didn’t look entirely convinced, but she pointed at the scatted wreckage that stretched between the ships two halves, “come on then! We don’t have all day.”

Wordlessly, Atem trailed behind her, leaving that strange, nostalgic sadness behind.

“Huh. I wonder what this thing’s supposed to be?”

Atem looked away from the pile of rubble he’d been picking at to inspect the thing Mana had brought over. She was holding a bright red, cylindrical shaped object that had a strange hose coming off it. He squinted at it, then shrugged, “I have no idea.”

Unimpressed with his disinterest, Mana tossed the thing aside with a huff and swam off to investigate what was left of the bridge. Mahaad was still busy looking over the melted remains of the ship’s engine room, wielding his staff to magically twist metal and move scraps out of his way. Atem rolled his eyes at the display. What an unnecessary use of magic. Whatever. He’s just showing off. He turned his attention back to the goldmine he’d stumbled upon before Mana interrupted him.

He found himself grinning wildly as he piled fancy forks and spoons into his bag. He only paused momentarily to admire the sleek, angular sculpting of the handles and the way the silver seemed to sparkle despite the lack of sunlight. He was positively giddy. While he’d hoarded plenty of silverware over the years, he didn’t have any that even closely resembled these. They’d had to of been custom made for the ship’s former owner. Even better, some of the glasses he’d seen that night had somehow survived the sinking. They were equally beautiful crystal goblets with similarly carved  bases and the letters “KC” monogrammed into them in gold. He may not have needed all of them, but that didn’t stop him from shoving all of what he could find into his bag.

It was then that something wispy and white waved from the corner of his eye. He looked up to see one of the drink carts a few yards away, comically standing upright and tablecloth caught in the current as if to beckon him. A warm, gooey feeling bubbled up in his chest as he absently swam towards it.  

Yugi.

Despite how mentally and emotionally drained he’d been after being forced into an endless marathon of royal duties, he still somehow managed to reserve just enough brainpower at the end of the night to think of Yugi. He metaphorically revisited the night of the accident over and over again, afraid that if he didn’t replay the memory enough times details word start to get fuzzy. He wanted to relive the feeling of Yugi’s soft skin against his open palm, the way his breath tickled the tips of his fingers; how when he finally opened his eyes he looked up at Atem as if he were seeing the stars for the first time. He was irrationally terrified of forgetting even the smallest detail.

Atem half-heartedly tugged at the tablecloth as he reminisced. Maybe he could save it as a memento. The fabric felt like sandpaper between his fingers, nothing like the way Yugi’s skin had felt. Reality dug it’s claws into his aching heart and squeezed, short-lived euphoria torn to shreds.

He was probably never going to see Yugi again. Hell, with the way things were going he’d be lucky to see the surface again. Whatever warm, gooey feeling that had settled in his stomach heated to boiling. His grip on the tablecloth tightened until he felt a seam pop open.  

It wasn’t fair.

Atem yanked the tablecloth from the cart with unnecessary force, a hole opening up like a mocking mouth when the fabric caught on a corner. Irritated, he shoved the tablecloth into  his bag. He could hear Mahaad’s voice in the back of his head chastising him for getting upset and acting like a brat, making him clench and unclench his fists so tightly it hurt, a push and pull of pain and tension surging through his palms.

The wedding was in less than two weeks and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. No one cared about what he thought or what he wanted. His feelings didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

Atem took his rage out on the drink cart, doubling back and slamming the sorry hunk of metal with his tail so hard it went flying. The pitiful thing wailed in protest as it landed upside down in a nearby ditch, a single wheel turning like a white flag from behind a cloud of sand. The impact left a stinging pain in his tail that radiated upwards in sharp waves. He winced against it, thankful for the small distraction from his anger. Curious, he looked down at the spot the cart had just been to investigate any remaining debris, and that’s when it caught his attention.

A piece of plastic peeked out from beneath a pile of sand and broken glass, looking entirely out of place. Unconsciously Atem reached for it, careful not to cut himself as he tugged it out from underneath the rubble. His heart slammed into his chest when he realized what he was looking at.

He held the small rectangle of plastic up close to his face as if he were having trouble deciphering what he was looking at. The name “Yugi Mutou” was written across the top of the card in sterile black lettering along with the the “KC” logo, and the best part, the bottom half was almost entirely dedicated to a small photograph of Yugi. Atem’s chest swelled at the sight of his sweet smile, eyes wide and hair just as peculiar as he remembered it. He grinned at the seemingly worthless piece of plastic like an idiot, unable to believe his luck. He suddenly felt a lot better.

Atem looked up to spot Mana near a sunken lifeboat and he darted towards her, calling, “you’ll never believe what I just found!”

“Ooh, what is it?” Mana said, sensing his excitement and meeting him halfway.

“It’s him,” Atem announced, proudly holding the lost identification card out for her to see. Her eyes went wide when she realized just what she was looking at.

“It’s Yugi, the boy from the shipwreck that I-“

“What boy from the shipwreck?”

The fire of Atem’s elation was snuffed out by the sound of Mahaad’s voice. He cautioned a glance in his direction to find him at the other end of the lifeboat with his arms crossed. Instinctively, he pressed the card to his chest in an attempt to hide it.

In the wake of their silence, Mahaad released a deep, tired sigh before approaching them, “I should have known that you didn’t find out about this place from a rumor.”

“Mahaad,” Mana started, “we wanted to tell you, it’s just that-“

“This wreck is too far from the palace and too ugly for me not to have heard about it myself before you told me about it,” he cut Mana off, full ire turned towards her, “I hadn’t heard a single word, and yet you knew the exact coordinates of the wreck. Not only that, but judging by the condition of everything, it’s been sitting here virtually untouched.”

“I, well, we- listen,” Mana set her jaw, trying not to stammer. The nerves were making Atem’s head pound and he couldn’t look Mahaad in the eye.

“Well, what?” Mahaad snapped, composure slipping, “you two were there, weren’t you? When this ship went down? How else would you have known about it?” he paused and his lapis colored eyes flashed with realization, “this happened the night that you asked me to hang out with you, didn’t it? You two went up to the surface that night.”

“Yes, and?” Mana retorted, “it’s not like we didn’t invite you.”

“That’s not the point!”

Atem could feel himself bristling at Mahaad’s accusatory tone. He was acting as if he’d never gone up there with them in the past, like he didn’t jump at any opportunity to visit the surface before he’d become royal advisor. He could feel his lips tightening into a scowl.

“You two know that visiting the surface is forbidden. Especially when there’s a ship up there. You could have been seen,” Mahaad sounded eerily like the king as he chastised them through gritted teeth, “and if you knew that the ship went down, you must have witnessed at least part of it. You could have been hurt,” he spared a pointed glance at Atem, “right before the wedding, no less.”

Atem went from bristled to hackles fully raised as his scowl evolved into a sneer. He glared at him, spitting, “good to know that’s your main concern.”

“What?”

“I could have missed the precious wedding if I’d gotten hurt,” Atem stated, voice clipped, “I suppose that’s priority right now, huh?”

Mahaad had the audacity to roll his eyes, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Atem scoffed. His suspicion that his role in the wedding was all that people around him cared about when it came to him had just been confirmed. They didn’t care about Atem. Not what he wanted or that his entire life had been decided for him. They only cared about what could be gained from using him as a political pawn.

“You have to tell the truth,” Mahaad said, ignoring the fuming prince and turning to look at Mana. That just made him angrier, “what happened that night?”

“Why? So you can rat us out to the king?” Mana laughed humorlessly.

“No, so I can make sure you two didn’t risk our safety.”

“You want to know what happened? Fine. I’ll tell you what happened,” Atem exploded, throwing his arms up, “Mana was being a good friend. She took me up to the surface to watch fireworks because she knew how upset I was after the wedding rehearsal and wanted to make sure I was okay,” he pointedly narrowed his eyes at Mahaad, but he didn’t seem to notice. He continued, “there was some sort of explosion and the ship started to sink. We did what we could to help. If you’d been there with us, you would have known.”

The water between them suddenly felt very tense, as if the current itself had paused to listen in on their argument. Atem steadied his gaze on Mahaad, watching closely as he thought the explanation over with a clouded expression. He didn’t back down. He wanted Mahaad to feel uncomfortable. He wanted Mahaad to feel guilty. He wanted him to understand. But when Mahaad’s expression solidified into harsh lines and an equally stony gaze, his stomach sank.

“You did what you could to help?” his tone was suspiciously calm. Atem straightened.

“Yes. Everything happened so fast that people would have died if we hadn’t.”

“Atem,” Mahaad said his name as if it stung, “oh, Atem.”

“What were we supposed to do? Let them drown?” he countered, “the ship was on fire and it listed so quickly that they had trouble loading-“

“Do you even understand what you’ve done? I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.”

Atem stared at him, incredulous. Mahaad was looking down on him as if he’d killed someone, rather than risking his own life to save countless others. The nerves he’d felt earlier sparked, igniting his anger into a flare of vitriol.

“How dare you,” he hissed, “Mana and I rescued so many people that night. Human or not, a life lost is a life lost. You would have turned your back on them?”

“Yes,” Mahaad seethed without hesitation, “they’re humans! You know the laws set in place by your father, you know what they’ve done and how dangerous they are-“

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Atem exclaimed, genuinely shocked at his carelessness, “you would have let innocent lives go to waste like that? There were children, Mahaad-“

“Human children. There’s a difference-“

“No there isn’t!” Atem cut him off, “so what if they’re humans? We all bleed the same!”

Mahaad laughed bitterly, countering, “and if you you washed up on the beach right now they’d filet you without a second thought. Do you really think they’d care to rescue you?”

“That’s not the point,” Atem said through gritted teeth. He could feel a headache coming on, “I saw an opportunity to help people in need and I took it. And I’d do it again. I don’t care if it doesn’t go both ways.”

“Evidently,” Mahaad crossed his arms, grip tightening around his staff. Atem wanted to take the stupid thing and throw it as hard as he could. He continued, “you care more about humans than you do the safety of your own people. If any of them saw you, if they start talking, it could mean-“

“I know!” Atem bellowed, unable to stand being spoken to like a child, “I know that! And I still don’t care! I know we did the right thing. And besides that, humans still haven’t found us yet, even after thousands of years-“

“That doesn’t mean it can’t happen!”

“So what-“

“And the laws exist for a reason,” Mahaad had matched him shout for shout, using his staff as an accusatory finger, “you should know that better than anyone, after what happened to your mother. It was your fault.”

“Don’t you dare-“

“And everyone knows it happened because of you!”

Mahaad’s words hit him like a barrage of daggers to the chest, sharp and dripping with a cruelty he’d never witnessed in his lifelong friend. He stared up at him, eyes pulled wide by the fingers of disbelief, his mouth falling agape in a feeble attempt to say something.

At the sight of Atem’s face, Mahaad’s own hard expression cracked. Gone was the haughty upwards pull of his posture, replaced by clear regret that made his shoulders fall. The blowback of his own verbal attack had taken him down. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Only silence.

Mana made an uncomfortable noise from beside them, and Atem watched as she placed a hand on Mahaad’s shoulder, saying quietly, “come on. We should go.”

“But I-“ Mahaad stuttered, gesturing at Atem. Mana shook her head.

“No. I think you’ve done enough,” she kept her voice low, but her tone was firm. She tugged at his arm, “let’s give Atem some space.”

Atem felt his body melt away, venturing so deeply into the crevices of his own mind that he didn’t notice when they left, their forms disappearing into the expanse of deep blue spread before him. He didn’t notice the way that Mahaad looked over his shoulder at him, like he wanted more than anything to turn around and say something. He didn’t even notice that he’d sunken to the ocean floor until he felt the tickle of sand against his scales, pulling half his consciousness back to reality. For a long while he just sat there, staring blankly up at the light dancing atop the ever distant surface.

It felt more far away than ever before.

It was your fault. Everyone knows it happened because of you.

He tensed, shoulders slumping forward until he collapsed in on himself. It was the most he could do to keep himself from slipping backwards and reliving that horrible day. From reliving the sound of his mother’s scream and the way the water around her turned red. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could and focused on the backs of his eyelids, counting the white specks that danced behind them.

Atem welcomed the numbness like an old friend, the familiar feeling of nothing folding around him like a hug. He knew he was supposed to be hurt. That he should have been angry. But instead he opted for feeling nothing at all, tipping himself over and pouring everything out.

He knew that after everything that happened, after the way his mother had died and how they continued to destroy the ocean at an alarming rate, he should hate humans. He should hate the world above. He shouldn’t want anything to do with it or them. And yet…

He spared a glance down at the plastic card he’d been clutching like a lifeline, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the sight of Yugi’s face. His big, violet eyes and wild hair. His freckles and heart-shaped lips that smiled up at him. It was like his heart kicked back to life, and he clutched the card to his chest in thanks, shutting his eyes tightly.

Marina.

Atem could see his mother then, her memory unfolding like a pearl oyster in his minds eye. She was vibrant and beautiful with eyes as red as his own and near identical scales that glistened like sapphires when she moved. He basked in the glow of her memory, reliving the countless times she’d taken his tiny hands in her own and twirled him around, humming the tune to that human song she loved so much. And then he joined in, clumsily singing along to Moon River with jumbled words and rhythm as they spun in a joyous circle. Her laugh sounded so real then, a phantom warmth overwhelming him and quelling the numbness.

He missed her so much.

He missed her laugh. He missed the sound of her voice. He missed her hugs. He missed the way she could make his father smile without a single word. He missed the seemingly endless fountain of love she’d been, overflowing and soaking all that surrounded her. She had loved life so much. She’d loved the sea. She’d loved the people of Millennium. She’d loved the world above. She’d even loved humans. And she’d loved him.

Atem opened his eyes then, staring down at Yugi fondly, and suddenly he knew. He knew why he couldn’t hate the world above and it’s inhabitants with the same vitriol nearly everyone around him did. It was because she didn’t. And even after what happened to her? He shook his head. Even then, he couldn’t see her hating them. There was no room in her heart; she was too full of love.

Atem knew that if she was still around, none of this would be happening right now. But he pushed the thought aside. The last thing he needed right now was to get upset again now that he was feeling a little better.

With a grunt, Atem floated up from his place in the sand and carefully placed the card in the bag with the rest of his findings. He could deal with Mahaad later. Right now he just wanted to get to the grotto and get his new treasures safely squared away. He could get his head screwed back on after some much needed alone time.

“Poor boy…”

The whisper caught him by surprise. It was just barely audible and sent an unnerving tingle up his back. He found himself unable to move.

“The prince wants a way out…”

The voice was coming from behind him, the subtle up in volume warning him that whatever it was had come in closer. Atem ignored the fear threatening to take over and looked over his shoulder. He was met by nothing but open, empty water.

“We can help.”

Atem stifled a yelp as he flailed backwards, the voice suddenly materializing in front of him in the form of a strange, white thing. He frantically eyed it over, the creature a slender,  waifish serpent with long, frayed tendrils coming off its back and a mouth full of deathly sharp teeth. It stared at him with beady red eyes and a jagged grin, approaching as if he were something to eat.

“What do you want?” Atem demanded, trying to sound intimidating.

“We want to help the prince,” the creature hissed as it drew closer. Atem tensed as it circled him like prey, the feeling of its eyes on him and the way it turned the current around its slender body making his skin crawl.

“I don’t need help.”

“Oh… well that’s a shame. Because we can help.”

Frightened, Atem swam up and out of the circle with every intention of getting as far away from the creature as possible, and yet he found himself stuck. There was something in its tone that held him like metal to a magnet, hypnotizing.  

“How could you help me?” Atem questioned cautiously.

“We can help, we can help,” it repeated, the creature’s face seeming to light up as it crossed the distance between them to circle him again. He felt something slimy flit across the small of his back, making him shudder and wrap his arms around himself protectively. He should have left when he had the chance.

“We can turn the prince into a human,” the creature purred, rubbing affectionately at the spot where Atem’s jaw and neck met. He was too shocked at the suggestion to be disgusted. Turn him into a human? Was that even possible?

“What did you just say?” he breathed, thoughts reeling.

“We can turn the prince into a human! Master is very powerful. You come visit now,” the creature sounded excited, jagged grin spreading unnaturally wide. A full body tremor overtook Atem as it wrapped its cold, slimy tail around his wrist and pulled. He needed to get away.

“I, wait-“

“You come with us to visit master Marik.”

The sound of that name threw Atem into an instantaneous panic and he gasped. He wrenched his hand from the creatures slippery grasp and doubled backwards, insisting, “no, no, I’m okay, thank you.”

The creature feigned hurt feelings at his reluctance, trying to sound reassuring as he spoke, “oh, master Marik means you no harm! He only wants to help, prince…”

An invisible crawling hand ascended Atem’s back at the repetition of his name. He rubbed at his wrist, his skin feeling sticky wear the creature had grabbed him. Of course he’d heard stories of the ostracized sorcerer who lurked within the nearby trenches. Everyone had. He’d heard talk of deals and offerings and rewards for as long as he could remember, as well as whispers of what happened when the wrong end of the bargain wasn’t held up.

But still. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was curious.

As if sensing the possibility of surrender, the creature mimicked what was supposed to be a kind smile, saying, “well, if you change your mind, prince… we will be ready for you.”

“Okay,” Atem nodded quickly. He really, really needed to get out of here, “thank you. Um, goodbye.”

And with that, he turned into a speedy retreat, only to be stopped by the glimmering wave of something gold peering up at him from the sand. His brow furrowed as he paused to pick the object up, wondering how he’d missed it before. It turned out to be a strangely shaped golden pendant that hung from a simple chord.  

There was something strange about it, the jewelry feeling heavy in his hand not just from the weight of gold, but something else. It felt powerful. It felt dangerous.

Even so, Atem could still feel the creature’s eyes on his back, and so he quickly slung the necklace over his head and made a break for it, trying hard not to think about what sort of help he’d been offered.

Chapter Text

Yugi tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his mouth as he idly scanned the papers strewn across his desk. He fell back against his chair with a huff, tired eyes finding the skylight that hung above him. The late afternoon greeted him with orange cream sickle skies and cotton candy clouds.

After nearly a week of being stuck at home,the house he’d grown up in had started to feel like a prison. His mom hadn’t let him out of her sight in the days after the accident, taking time off from the hospital to dote on him despite his protests. He felt fine. Honestly. Especially after spending what felt like an eternity in bed, brain fuzzy from the concussion’s final remnants and a Tylenol Extra-Strength induced haze.

Not only had he gotten hit in the head hard enough to knock him out when the Kaiba Corp ship went down. Oh no. After being exposed to elements for as long as he had when he’d been considered lost at sea, he’d basically caught the flu. Despite feeling infinitely better, even now the chill of the window AC unit made him feel a little uncomfortable. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be taking another gig with them despite the excellent pay. The risk wasn’t worth it.

At least his mom had finally returned back to work that day, making him swear up and down that he wouldn’t open Kame Gifts back up until that coming Tuesday, and he knew her well enough to know that was also code for “do not leave this house and hurt yourself again or so help me god.” Being a nurse made her a stickler for following doctor’s orders and he technically wasn’t allowed to pick up his usual schedule for another day or two.

Yugi stretched his arms as high up above his head as he could, closing his eyes and revelling in the way his joints popped and loosened. At least the prospect of things going back to normal had made his stir craziness wane, and luckily Domino’s local news station had finally stopped harassing him at all hours of the day. Seemingly overnight he’d become Domino’s own Harry Potter, the local press touting him as “The Boy Who Lived” after he miraculously survived not only the shipwreck itself, but being lost at sea for nearly twelve hours.

Of course Yugi had been the only staff member in the galley when the first explosion happened. Obviously he’d placed himself right in the line of fire and gotten hit in just the right spot so his ass was out cold. It was just fate’s design that he’d been the only person that didn’t make it to a lifeboat before the ship went down, you know, on the account of being unconscious and all.  Though Yugi had never considered himself to be an unlucky person, he did have the sneaking suspicion that some higher power got a kick out of watching him squirm, and the events of that night had been all the proof he’d needed.  

After an entire night spent searching both land and sea, authorities had been certain he hadn’t survived. But then they’d found him on a secluded beach just north of the bluffs, unconscious but alive, baffled as to how he’d ended up there. The swim would have been difficult for a strong swimmer let alone an average one like Yugi, and according to the coastguard, he’d somehow managed to go against the tide while unconscious. By all accounts, it didn’t make any sense.

They’d sent one of the search parties to that beach as a last resort, and to their shock and amazement there he’d been, passed out in the early morning tide with a gnarly concussion and a few bruises but otherwise unscathed. The police had questioned him, of course. Asking what the hell happened and how he’d gotten there, of all places, more times and in more ways than he could count. Over and over again he’d responded with the same story; he’d gone to the galley to start cleaning up, there was a loud bang, his vision went black, and he woke up on the beach with an awful headache. His guess was as good as theirs as to how he ended up there, and once they realized that they weren’t getting anything useful out of him they quietly wrote his survival off as a miracle.

But that wasn’t the whole story.

Yugi sighed through his nose as his eyes fell back to the papers sprawled across his desk. An entire notebooks worth of notes and drawings he’d scribbled over the last few days, trying to piece to together what exactly he’d seen that morning.

Or rather, who.

The police had assured him that he’d been the only one there no matter how many times he told them that he’d seen someone else. They said it was impossible. Yugi was the only one who’d been unaccounted for. Everyone else had made it on to a lifeboat and been found by the coastguard. He was the only one who’d gone missing. No one else.

His most recent sketch stared up at him with impossibly large eyes, irises that shone red like garnets and those weird scleras. They had been yellow. Not jaundiced, but the color of sunflower petals or freshly cut pineapple. There had been yellow markings around those eyes too, like stripes, and blotches of sapphire blue and bright orange decorating high cheekbones.

He tapped the corner of his mouth with the pencil again, humming. If only it were possible to draw what the voice had sounded like. Try as he might to describe the sound properly, the words never felt right. He’d guessed the vocal range to be that of a baritone, but that was really all he could say definitively.

At least he’d managed to figure out the song that’d woken him up; Moon River by Frank Sinatra. His grandpa had loved Breakfast At Tiffany’s and so he was pretty familiar with Audrey Hepburn’s dreamy, longing version of the lyrics long since permanently ingrained in his memory. The voice he’d heard that morning had sounded just as longing, he realized, but there had been something else there. Something enticing. Like the sudden urge to jump off a bridge or into oncoming traffic, even when you knew it could kill you.

As he looked the sketch over one more time, he could hear the lyrics to Moon River crash against the inside of his head like a wave. If he concentrated hard enough he could feel a hand against his cheek, cold and slippery yet somehow comforting.

Yugi hadn’t been alone that night. He was sure of it.

“You know Mahaad only said that because he was mad, right?”

Atem silently piled the new cutlery he’d acquired in with the rest of his collection, pausing to admire the angular carvings that made up the handle of a knife before placing it atop the others. He looked over his shoulder at Mana who laid sprawled across a nearby rock he’d fashioned into a lounge. She stared at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Mana rolled her eyes at him. Atem snickered to himself as he shelved one of the new goblets in between two of the many orange, cat-shaped phones he’d collected over the years, right next to a weird thing labeled a “Bop-It!” Even after having it for so long he still couldn’t figure out what it was used for.

“Stop playing dumb. I know you’re still pissed off about what happened, but it isn’t helping anything.”

“Who said I was pissed?” Atem said dumbly. He moved an old alarm clock to make room for a cream colored pouch with the letters “LV” embroidered across the front. A sharp pain exploded in the back of his head.

“Ouch!” he yelped, whipping around to face Mana. He watched as the Rubik’s cube she’d lobbed at him floated lazily towards the sea floor, “what the hell was that for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mana said innocently, propping her chin up on her folded hands. Atem released an indignant sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned, swimming towards the large rock where she’d made herself comfortable. He sat himself down at the foot of it, taking a moment to admire the countless human curios that lined the rocky shelves of the grotto. Being literally surrounded by his beloved collection felt like an indirect hug, comforting and warm. Mana tickled his hip with the end of her tail, and he smiled weakly at her.

“Mahaad didn’t mean what he said back there, you know... He was angry about the shipwreck and it just slipped out.”

“He sounded pretty serious to me,” Atem said, already feeble smile faltering.

“Yeah, well, you know how he gets when he’s angry. He goes straight for the gills.”

“Yeah,” Atem murmured, thumbing the fabric of the netted bag that still hung from his shoulder. He didn’t want to talk about the fight. He didn’t even want to think about it. Frankly, he’d done enough thinking after his once best friend shattered him and left him to pick up the pieces like it was a mess of his own doing. No, he didn’t want to dwell on the subject.

He had bigger things to worry about.

“We talked about it on the way back and he feels terrible about what he said,” she offered carefully, “Really, Atem. He didn’t mean it.”

“Which part? The part about my mother or the part about rescuing all those humans? Because he sounded pretty sincere about both.”

Mana snaked a strand of blonde hair around her index finger and twirled it, something she only did when she was feeling particularly uncomfortable.  She chewed at her bottom lip, saying, “he- well. He was sorry about what he said about your mother. He knows that it… it wasn’t your fault.”

“But he still thinks leaving people to die because they’re humans is okay, right?”

Instead of answering, Mana just stared at him with intense aquamarine eyes. They’d clearly met an impasse and her patience was obviously wearing thin. He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t exactly making things easy.

“Look,” Atem sighed, attempting to soften her gaze with his own, “I really don’t want to talk about Mahaad right now. I think I’ve had enough of him for one day.”

“Fair enough,” Mana conceded, though she didn’t look ready to drop the subject. Their conversation faded after that.

Atem’s gaze traveled upwards to the space where the rocky shelves gave way to open water, light from the surface filtering down around them in distorted waves. On certain days of the year at just the right time, the sun would line up perfectly with the rounded opening, and with it the whole grotto would come alive with sparkling lights that danced off his precious treasures like shooting stars. It was a secret his mother passed on to him along with her collection of surface world treasures all those years ago. If only she could see just how many wonderful things Atem had amassed over the years since her passing. A dull ache thrummed against his chest in quiet succession.

Gods, he missed her.

“What are you going to do?”

Mana’s question halted his train of thought and he looked back at her with a quizzical gaze, asking, “what do you mean?”

“The wedding,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “how are you going to get out of it?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, “get out of it?”

“Yeah. I know you well enough to know that you’re scheming up some master plan to have the whole thing called off.”

When he didn’t say anything, Mana mirrored his earlier expression, raising one of her own eyebrows and saying, “wait just a minute, you can’t tell me you don’t have anything planned?”

For some reason, Atem felt a little embarrassed. Of course he’d thought about what he could do to get out of the wedding. Forgetting. Faking sick. Releasing a heard of seahorses in the ballroom before the procession. He’d even briefly considered employing Mahaad’s help. The problem was that anything he could do would only be prolonging the inevitable. No matter how angry his father would be or how big the inconvenience, they’d just reschedule, and he doubted that Ishtar would want to cancel.

He supposed he could runaway. But where would he run to? What would he even do out there on his own? And how long would it take them to find him? The more he thought about it, the less appealing that option sounded.

You are the last gift your mother gave me before she was taken from us.

The voice of his father called from the back of his head the same way his mother’s did when he relived her memory. No. He couldn’t do that to him.

“So you’re going through with it?” Mana sounded like she couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“What other choice do I have?”

“I… well, there has to be something.”

Atem shook his head, despondent, “my father won’t listen to me. He doesn’t care about what I want. None of his court does. Not even Mahaad. And it’s not like I can do anything to stop the wedding. Not without catastrophic consequences, anyway.”

“Like what?”

“Can you imagine if I just didn’t show up? If I ran away?” he found himself messing with the bag again, folding the worn fabric between his fingers. One of his nails caught a snag, tearing a small hole open. He grimaced, “if I ruin this, my father would never forgive me. Not only that, but so much is riding on this stupid wedding. It’s all… politics. Alliances. Trade agreements,” he trailed off, thinking back on the countless conversations he’d had with his father about the current state of affairs not only in Millennium, but the ocean as a whole.

“If I  don’t go through with this… I don’t know what will happen,” he couldn’t stop his voice from cracking,“But I- I feel like my life is ending before it’s even started.”

If merpeople could cry, in that moment, Atem would have. Wordlessly, Mana sat up and pulled him into her arms, resting her head against his in quiet camaraderie. She didn’t have to say anything. She just squeezed him as if she were afraid he’d crumble if she used too much force, and let him collapse into her.

They sat like that for awhile and for the first time in days, Atem felt the tension in his shoulders ease off. He’d didn’t want to admit that carrying himself around like a tightly pulled knot was about to become the norm for him.

Careful not to disturb Mana’s embrace, Atem reached into his bag and pulled out Yugi’s lost ID card. He ran an affectionate thumb across the picture of his human fascination, smiling despite himself. Had Atem’s own image made a hiding place behind Yugi’s thoughts the same way his had?

“He really is cute, you know.”

Mana had perched her chin atop Atem’s shoulder, she too staring fondly down at Yugi’s photograph. He sighed and rested his own head atop Mana’s, her presence a soothing balm to the ache in his heart.

“He really is,” he mused dreamily. He felt Mana stiffen, if only just a little bit.

“Atem?”

“Yeah?”

“If you had the chance to become human, would you take it?”

The question crashed upon him like a clap of thunder, a tingling feeling like static electricity starting at the tip of his tail and traveling up to the top of his head in dizzying jolts. His heart pounded against his chest as if it were trying to knock a door down, chanting Yes. Yes. Yes! in a voice he didn’t want to recognize as his own. His fingers traced the necklace he’d found earlier that day, the metal seemingly warming against his clammy skin, as if to remind him that yes, it was there. He swallowed.

“I just don’t see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad,” was the best that Atem could manage. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t an answer either.

“Well, yeah, obviously I agree with you on that,” Mana said, lifting her head to look at him. She held her arm out in a sweeping motion, “I mean, look around us! Humans aren’t perfect but if they can make things like all this, they can’t be all bad.”

Atem’s eyes followed her arm in silent appreciation as he gazed upon his treasures, natural shelves in the rocky canyon lined with years’ worth of beloved human curios he’d hoarded for practically his whole life. Piles of books he’d read more times than he could count. Weathered toys and strange plastic objects he didn’t understand but loved all the same. Boxes filled to bursting with more tarnished jewelry and cutlery and than he knew what to do with. But his favorites were the unique things that stood out amongst the the masses; like the cat-shaped telephones, the Rubik’s cubes he’d stacked into a tower, an old music box that played a song he didn’t know the words to but loved because of the twirling figure inside it, the phallic shaped thing that Mahaad had always hated but he and Mana found hysterical. Photographs of places and things he’d never get to see, of people he’d never get to meet.

Yugi’s ID card.

“So would you do it?” Mana asked again.

“I…” he trailed off, clutching the necklace’s strange charm, “I don’t know.”

We can help. We can help.

The voice’s sudden mental intrusion made Atem shudder, and Mana gave him a concerned look. His grip on the necklace tightened. Was such a thing even possible? Trading his tail for a pair of human legs? He’d jokingly asked Mahaad about it once or twice of course, but the sour sorcerer had assured him that such a thing was next to impossible. But still, he wondered.

Gods, was that even what he really wanted? A way to get out of the wedding was one thing, but becoming a human? More questions than he could ponder upon flooded his tired thoughts. He pursed his lips in consideration.

Yes. The voice inside himself repeated over and over again like a sacred chant, despite it all. Yes. Yes. Yes.

“Well,” he spoke quietly, as if afraid to be heard, “I mean, if it were possible,” he looked back at Mana then, and the look on her face made his stomach fall to the ground.

Her eyes had been pulled wide with fear, staring at something just over his shoulder. Her lips parted ever so slightly, as if she wanted to say something but her voice had been stolen from her. Instead she met his gaze, her fear morphing into warning with tightly knit brows and a taut mouth.

Suddenly, Atem knew.

Steeling himself for what was to come, Atem took a deep breath and got up from his place on the rock and turned to face the alcove that led out of the grotto. He pulled his shoulders back and spoke with as much courage as he could muster.

“Hello, father.”

Chapter Text

The air stilled as King Aknamkanon entered the grotto, expression held so tightly it made Atem’s own cheeks ache with phantom pain. His father stared down at him with cold, eerily expressionless eyes.   

This was bad.

“I see you’ve found my collection,” Atem said, weakly pointing his shoulder at the hoard of human contraband. He pushed his shoulders back and tried to seem unaffected.

“This place was your mother’s before she passed,” the king said, sounding equally as cold as his expression, “how stupid do you think I am?”

Atem’s mouth flapped open dumbly. Of course he’d known. But then why…

“I don’t ask much of you, Atem,” his father continued after a deep sigh, “I don’t ask much of you at all, in the grand scheme of things. All I ask is that you fulfill your royal duties and stay away from the surface. And in return, I pretend not to notice when you sneak off to dig through piles of garbage those disgusting humans have left behind. And yet it seems I always set myself up for disappointment.”

Dread washed over Atem in a brackish wave, taking his resolve along with it. He held his father’s intense gaze despite the pull to look away, the tiny voice in his head pleading with him to lie. Lie, lie, lie.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coolly, “I’ve always done what you’ve asked of me.”

For the most part.

The King’s expression didn’t change, but the grip around his scepter tightened, his knuckles whiting out. Atem suppressed the urge to back away like a frightened guppy.

“You’ve only ever followed my orders begrudgingly, if only the orders you choose to follow.”

“But father, I-“

“Enough.”

King Aknamkanon used the hilt of his scepter as a gavel, the magic it possessed making the entire room seem to quake. Atem squared his jaw, his own knuckles going white around the ID card he still clutched in his hand. He knew that a confrontation like this was bound to happen eventually, but why now?

“You know that the laws exist for your own protection and the protection of our people. And yet you deliberately disobey me at every opportunity that comes your way,” his father said, tone sharp but frighteningly controlled, “I’ve allowed you to make a fool out of me for years. All because I wanted to believe you’d keep your word every time you promised me you wouldn’t go back. That you would stay safe. And thanks to my negligence, it’s come to this.”

The bad feeling that’d nested in Atem’s gut stirred, a warning. All he could manage was a broken whisper, “I’m sorry.”

The king laughed. Laughed. It was black with bitterness, but a laugh all the same, “Don’t lie to me, boy. You’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime,” he paused to survey the grotto, “I should have destroyed this place years ago.”

Panic pulled Atem’s eyes wide, “what?”

“Where were you the night of that shipwreck, Atem?”

He stayed quiet.

“Answer me.”

“You mean the day of the wedding rehearsal-“

“Yes,” the king barked, and it was then that Atem noticed his scepter had began to glow red.

“Mana and I went up to the surface to watch fireworks. That’s it, I promise, I-“ he stammered with pleading eyes, palms outstretched, all his previously feigned confidence melted to that of a beggar. His voice cracked, “please.”

“Tell the truth. All of it.”

Atem whipped around to look at Mana, who looked equally as frightened, her tailed tucked up into her chest and her arms a makeshift shield. Their eyes met and she shook her head, but he  didn’t know what to make of it, his thoughts were running into each other-

“Atem!”

At the bellow of his name he whipped back around to face his father, “we didn’t- I, I know it was a mistake,” his words were clumsy and crashed into each other as he tried to explain, “but the day had been so horrible and Mana just wanted to cheer me up! We had no way of knowing-“

“Did you save all of those humans or not?” His father demanded, pointing the glowing scepter at him. He could feel the heat radiating off it, power sizzling off the prongs in an angry hiss of bubbles. Instinctively, Atem fell back towards Mana to get in front of her. His hands shook in front of him in a fruitless attempt to put distance between them and his father. He was terrified.

“Answer me!”

“Yes!” Atem cried, all out of excuses, “we didn’t know what else to do!”

At his admission, an expression he couldn’t read ghosted his father’s features. The roiling boil of his scepter settled down to a simmer as his posture shifted.

Atem felt his own shoulders drop. What had he done?

A disappointed scowl that he’d become all too familiar with tugged at the ends of his father’s mouth, his thick, gray eyebrows coming to rest in a straight line. He shook his head in quiet despondence, “so it’s true.”

“Yes,” Atem breathed.

Again, the king shook his head, muttering something to himself as he turned turned his back to him. For a single, hopeful moment Atem thought he would head back towards the tunnel and leave, that this whole horrible ordeal would be over. He could only hope to be so lucky.

“How could I have ever given any sort of credence to possibility of you making the right decision?” His father doubled back on him, face twisted with newly returned anger, “I can forgive going up to the surface to watch fireworks. But rescuing humans? Risking being seen? I’m at a loss for words, Atem.”

“They would have died,” Atem picked his words carefully, trying to sound reasonable, “If we hadn’t intervened, so many of them-“

“And what’s one less human to worry about?” King Aknamkanon scoffed.

Atem gaped at his father, somehow still surprised by his cruelty despite what he already knew. He clenched his fists as he spoke, “there were women and children, and-“

“Humans!” his father corrected, “humans, all the same! Spineless, savage, harpooning, fish-eaters, incapable of any feeling-“

“That’s not true!” Atem exclaimed, “that can’t be true! How could they have possibly made-“

“These are the same creatures that have nearly destroyed our way of life, Atem! The same creatures who’ve polluted the sea and driven fellow ocean-dwellers to extinction, who’ve taken more than we can give, and for what?” he paused to stare Atem down as the words sank in, “we’re talking about the same monsters that killed your mother. Or have you forgotten about what they’ve done in your infatuation, surrounded by their shit all day?”

Atem felt Mana reach to take one of his hands, but he shook her off, saying through gritted teeth, “it was an accident. I was there.”

The king guffawed, “please. You’ve spent so much time mesmerized by their garbage that your obsession has twisted the reality you live in.”

“I was there!” Atem yelled, his eyes stinging with tears that didn’t exist, “I know what happened that day. I brought her body back,” Mana’s hands were on his wrist again, and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping at her, “let go!”

“Even so-“

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know. I’m not stupid.”

“And yet you risked not only your own safety, but the safety of our people by rescuing those humans,” the King said, the water around his scepter sizzling with heat, “if we’re discovered it could truly mean the end for us, and if you’d been hurt-“

“What?” Atem laughed humorlessly, “What would have happened? You’d have one less problem to worry about! Oh, wait. That’s right! You need me alive so I can be a good little prince and play house with the princess of Ishtar, so you can have your fucking trade agreements or whatever.”

“You sound like a child.”

“Then maybe stop treating me like one!” Atem shouted, no longer caring what he sounded like. He let the words tear out him like a shaken bottle, “no one ever asked me how I felt about anything! You decided my entire life for me. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“You think it matters what you want?” the king said incredulously, “you’re the heir to the throne of Millennium.  By the nature of your title all you should want is what’s best for the kingdom, and what’s best for the kingdom is our alliance to Ishtar.”

Atem shook his head. What about what he wanted? Did anyone care about that? Was it really that selfish to wish he’d had more say in the direction his life took?

“I wish I’d been born a human,” Atem muttered to himself. Almost immediately, the entire room seemed to go still.

He should have stayed quiet.

“Is that so?” King Aknamkanon said.

Atem chanced a glance at his father, surprised to see the look of utter defeat on his face, exasperation that made him look so much older than he actually was. He shrugged, sounding almost sad as he spoke, “I consider myself to be a reasonable man. But if this is the only way to get through to you, then so be it.”

He raised his scepter and Atem’s heart stopped.

“Wait-“

Atem’s plea morphed into a scream as golden light shot from the pronged scepter and ricocheted through the grotto with its cruel magic, destroying everything it touched in an awful cacophony of noise. He watched in agony as years of tireless collecting was laid to waste, silverware he’d toiled over melted together, books reduced to nothing but tiny shreds of paper that turned the grotto into a  twisted image of a snow globe.

“Please! Stop!”

But Atem’s frantic begging went unnoticed as King Aknamkanon continued his work, the tower of Rubik’s cubes reduced to a pile of plastic rubble and the collection of cat-phones broken into a million pieces. His favorite music box burst apart with a metallic twang, the goblets he’d collected that day shattered effortlessly.

Before his father’s work was finished, Atem sunk to the sea floor in a pathetic heap, hands pressed across his eyes. But the cracks between his fingers betrayed him, the carnage an overwhelming presence that stood before him. His hands clamped over his mouth to muffle the ugly sob that ripped through his chest. He wanted to look at his father in some hollow act of courage, but his head felt too heavy to lift. He couldn’t do it. Whatever pride he’d possessed had been destroyed along with his beloved collection, taking any respect he’d held for his father along with it.

“How could you?” The words were little more than a choked whisper.

“You were the last gift your mother gave me before she died,” Aknamkanon said, tone somber as he shuffled towards the makeshift door. He paused, “But sometimes, I wish that she hadn’t.”

Atem’s entire being burned with a shame he’d never felt before. His father left without another word.

In an instant Mana sunk to the ground beside him, muttering frenzied condolences as Atem broke down. He’d wrapped his arms around himself so tightly that his nails were surely puncturing the soft flesh of his tail, but he didn’t care. He didn’t feel a thing. He was floating in a haze of why.

King Aknamkanon had always been a stern man, but never cruel. Not like this. He’d earned the respect of his court, of his people, of Atem, by being a firm but just ruler and equally caring father. Even when he was being entirely too strict or overprotective, he understood his motivations. But this? This had been entirely unnecessary. His father aiming to teach him a lesson was one thing, but destroying the thing he’d loved most hadn’t been about punishment. He’d set out to hurt him.

And hurt him he did.

Atem was thankful that Mana hadn’t reached out to touch him, instead opting to sit in silence alongside him as he gathered what little of himself his father hadn’t obliterated. She may as well have been speaking in a foreign language. Her words didn’t make any sense. When the heave-ho of his chest slowed to an acceptable rhythm he chanced looking up, and his entire body trembled as he took in the carnage. Aside from a few random curios, everything had been ruined. It looked as if a naval mine had gone off, years of collecting reduced to an unrecognizable pile.

“I’m so sorry, Atem,” Mana repeated over and over again in the same warbling tone, as if repetition would somehow make things better. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. He dug his fingers into the sand just to feel something.

“By the gods…”

The unmistakable timbre of Mahaad’s voice shook Atem out of his stupor, and he looked up to find the sorcerer standing in the same place his father had only minutes prior. His blue eyes had grown wide with horror’s bloat, a single hand pressed to his chin as he took in the damage.

“What on earth happened?” he breathed.

Atem stiffened. Something wasn’t right.  

“The king…” Mana trailed off before she could form a proper answer, but it was enough for Mahaad’s entire disposition to morph into something else. Something panicked.

“No. He wouldn’t-“

“He did.”

Mahaad visibly paled as his eyes scanned the wake of the king’s rage. He shook his head, “no. No, this isn’t right.”

“Mahaad…” Mana started, “we were both here. I- we both saw it happen. It was awful.”

The gears in Atem’s head slowly started back up as Mahaad’s strange demeanor wound up the invisible crank on his back. His stomach had turned to ice. No. He didn’t want to believe it. He would never.

Would he?

“The King did this,” Mahaad said as if he were trying to ask a question, but it came out as a statement instead. He shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head, “by the gods, no.”

All at once, Atem knew.

“You told him.”

“Atem, it wasn’t like that-“

“You told him,” Atem hated the way his voice cracked as he spoke, betraying him the same way Mahaad had, “you told him, and he did this.”

“I was just trying to protect you!” Mahaad exclaimed, sounding equal parts desperate and ashamed, “I never would have thought he’d do something like this. Never. I just wanted him to knock some sense into you after-“

“Go,” Atem growled, “I want you to go.”

“Atem, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this-“

“Get out!” Atem cried, “just go. Get out of here, now!”

“Atem-“

“Calling me by my first name is reserved for family and friends,” Atem spoke with a cold disposition he barely recognized as his own, holding himself with as much dignity as he could from the ground, “you may call me Prince or your highness. Now go. You are dismissed.”

Mahaad looked as if Atem had reared back and punched him square in the face, crumpled and hurt in a way only a close friend could manage. When his brief shocked silence had passed, he set his jaw and nodded.

“As you wish.”

And with that, he was gone.

Atem found himself staring down at the sand again, completely spent. Of course Mahaad had ratted him out. How could he have been so naïve to expect anything else? If Mahaad had kept his mouth shut, if he’d taken just a moment to consider his actions, to take their friendship into consideration before anything else, for once, this wouldn’t have happened. The grotto would have survived.

Something white and plasticky caught Atem’s gaze from between the rubble, and he automatically reached out to take it. He sighed. It was Yugi’s ID card. He must have dropped it during the scuffle, but it had survived. He closed his eyes and held it to his heart.

“I don’t know what to say,” Mana whispered from beside him, suddenly reminding him of her presence, “I don’t know how to make this better for you, Atem. I’m so sorry.”

Despite himself, Atem nudged her shoulder with his own. Just her being there with him was enough. He shrugged, “it’s okay. I don’t know what to say either.”

He glanced back down at the photograph, Yugi’s ever-smiling face beaming up at him from its plastic confines. What he wouldn’t give to see him again, to feel the silk expanse of his skin beneath his fingers and count the freckles that decorated his cheeks.

Beyond that, beyond him, what he wouldn’t give to visit the surface again. To bask in the sun’s all-encompassing warmth like he belonged there, like it was for him, and let the tide roll him towards the shore.

We want to help the prince.

Want’s heavy weight threatened to crush him. That was just the thing. He didn’t want to just watch anymore. He wanted to be.

We can help, we can help.

A single, trembling finger ghosted the mysterious charm that hung from his neck, the gold strangely warm beneath his touch.

We can turn the prince into a human.

The surrounding destruction stared him down like a taunting, malevolent being, the sting of his father’s actions burning him from within. He scowled at nothing and everything all at once.

What did he care about the king’s orders? What good did it do him? He’d made it clear that he didn’t care what Atem wanted, so why should he return the favor?

Master is very powerful.

The charm thrummed against his fingers with an energy he couldn’t place; something magical. It was something more powerful than he’d ever felt. He looked down at Yugi’s plastic, forever smile.

What did he have to lose?

“Atem?” Mana jumped at his sudden movement, “what are you-“

He looked at Mana very seriously as he rose from his place on the sea floor. She stared up at him with trepidation, thrown by his sudden resolve but ever present as she took her place beside him. Always beside him.

He knew he could trust her.

“Mana,” he spoke her name with as much meaning as he could.

“What do you want me to do?” her response was instant. Atem resisted the urge to throw his arms around her.

“I…” he debated on how much he should say, “I need to leave. I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t.”

“I know,” she spoke quietly.

“But I’m afraid to go alone.”

“Well, I can’t exactly run away with you, but I’ll help in any way I can.”

Atem did hug her then, burying his face in the blonde cloud of her hair. She squeezed him as if she could hold him there forever. It said so much more than words ever could.

“I know, and I don’t expect you to,” her hair got caught in his mouth as he spoke. He pulled away to look at her, to watch the way she reacted to what he was about to say, “I think I found a way to become human.”

Mana’s eyes doubled in size, “what?”

“Yeah, I know,” Atem smiled despite himself, “I just… look, it could be dangerous, and I’m afraid to go by myself. I don’t want to be alone when…” his head replayed every story he’d heard of the trench’s lonely sorcerer in an inaudible mess. Gods, was he really going to do this?

“I, wow, okay,” Mana stuttered, Atem’s hands falling away from her shoulders as she circled in thought, doing mental gymnastics. She still sounded dazed when she finally spoke, “Atem. Atem. Who? How? What?”

If the situation were any less serious, he would have laughed, “it’s hard to explain,” he touched the charm again, its heat nearly burning him.

“No shit,” she scoffed, “Mahaad always said that it’s impossible, but…”

She looked at him then, the look on her face morphing into panic as realization struck her. Her hands flew up to her head as if it were about to explode.

“Holy shit.”

Atem nodded slowly, somehow embarrassed by the plan he’d yet to admit.

Mana shook her head again, one hand migrating to her forehead and the other to her neck as she took a moment to think. The shock hardened into serious concern.

“Are you sure?” She pressed.

“Yes.”

“I, gods, Atem. Not to sound like Mahaad, but- fuck,” she looked genuinely frightened by the idea, as she should be, but Atem was out of options. He was out of patience. And he was nearly out of hope. This was a last resort, and they both knew it.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Yeah, well- shit, neither do I.”

“I don’t have any other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.”

“Yeah, but,” Atem gestured wildly at the carnage that surrounded them. He could feel the future closing in on him like a suffocating embrace.

“I can’t. I can’t,” Atem repeated, voice shaking, “I can’t stay here any longer. It’ll kill me.”

Mana considered him, considered their whole situation for an agonizingly long minute. She looked over the remains of Atem’s collection with the same reverence one would give a loved one who’d passed.

He pleaded with his eyes. Please don’t make me do this alone.

“Okay,” Mana finally spoke, sounding more sure than she looked, “okay. What’s the plan?”

Overcome with love and relief and so much appreciation he could hardly stand it, Atem grabbed Mana’s hand and led her up and out of the grotto, leaving the remnants of his past to succumb to the sea’s elemental hand.