back to you. rafayel x non!mc reader
“maybe in another life...”
moonlight spills across the sea, landing entirely on you, and your laughter skips over the waves like it belongs there. the sight of you alone is enough to knock the air from his lungs.
the breeze brushes past, lifting strands of your hair so they fall in perfect, careless patterns around your face. even the fabric of your clothing dances with the wind as your tail is now nonexistent, replaced with newly acquired human legs that prance around the surface, testing the limit of his divine power—even the smallest movement from you is enough to make his heart tremble.
you peer at him with a gentle look full of adoration. dare he say possibly full of love. it’s an expression he thought would belong to him forever. it’s too much for him to handle. it feels holy.
it’s enough to bring the young sea god to his knees.
“...i’ll be yours again.”
he wakes with a gasp—chest heaving with sweat slick on his skin, panic clawing at his throat as the remnants of his dream burn into him before dissipating into nothing.
it was just another dream.
and it was about you. again.
except it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory.
his eyes dart, observing the room; he tries to remember where he is. tries to piece together what he’d done hours before, leading him to fall asleep on the couch in his living room instead of his bedroom.
the air inside his home was freezing. the ceiling-high windows were left open, not a shred of moonlight slipping through the clouds. in the distance, the sound of crashing waves and rumbling thunder reverberated through the night—like the sea itself was angry.
pushing off the suffocating blanket and rising from the couch, he slowly makes his way towards his room, manifesting a flicker of fire at his fingertip, using it to navigate the dark halls of his home, actively avoiding the mess of paint brushes and littered coral stones on the ground.
finally, he stands in front of his closed bedroom door, fingers hovering above the doorknob—when suddenly, flickering visions of a young maiden sitting amongst a reef crowd his senses.
he's pulling your hands into his, guiding you into a dance in the god of tides chamber. a place holy and sacred, solely reserved for the sea god and his most loyal follower.
you’re telling him you shouldn’t be here, alone, this late at night.
but again, he rests your qualms, twirling you tenderly as he directs a school of flammula around the two of you.
and when you spin back to face him again, he catches his reflection in your eyes—sees the way you’re trying to hide a smile from a joke he murmured only for you.
another memory from centuries ago. vivid and mercilessly genuine.
one he lived. one he lost.
he shakes his head violently, disparaging those memories until all he sees are nothing but darkened shadows and scattered supplies. he forces the air back into his lungs in slow, steady breaths, trying to will himself back into the present.
slowly opening the door, his line of sight immediately follows the center of his bed, he sees you wrapped snuggly in his white comforter, hair splayed across your face. chest rising and falling from shallow breaths.
there you were. real. alive.
and that’s what mattered.
because he can hear the faint rhythm of your heartbeat. a sound that’s haunted him across lifetimes, through centuries, through curses and prayers unanswered.
especially when the last moment he held you, you disappeared into nothing but sea foam.
and he heard your final words, spent every second after wallowing in a grief so profound, searching for you in every corner of the ocean.
and when that yielded no results, he thought to find you on land. you had died a human, after all.
in dreams and memories, he tried everything in his divine power to locate your soul. and now—now he’s found you at last.
he even stands idly by, watching the way you stir in your sleep, in his house, on his bed. never once wanting to look away.
and his concern grows at the sight of your furrowed brows, fists unconsciously clenching.
it’s as if you’re caught in a nightmare.
waiting there, watching you, everything finally crashes into him like a wave, what the two of you had done hours before.
remembers how he selfishly asked to kiss you, and you had said yes after you hesitated—just barely—before allowing him to.
how he dragged you beneath the sea to show you the remnants of a world you were curious about.
it’s a world you should’ve known all too well.
he lied, telling you he wanted to show you around for fun, but in reality, he did it under the guise of trying to reawaken your memories.
hand in yours, swimming around destroyed ruins to show you your old home where your mother and father raised you, he took you to the cave where a younger version of you had first met him and complimented his scales without knowing of his importance.
took you to the palace where he introduced you to his parents, through the temple you used to manage. and finally, he took you to your final resting place, where you vanished into his arms turning into nothing but sea foam.
he took you to every corner of your past, hoping for just a flicker of recognition in your eyes, but there was nothing.
instead, you viewed everything he showed you curiously, with burning fascination.
and somewhere beneath all of it was a warm, fragile fraction of the love you once held for him. he could see it in the depths of your eyes, judge it but the way you nervously flustered, unable to hide the pink dusting of your ears with his teasing.
but in all in, it wasn’t real, not in the way it’s supposed to matter. because you didn’t remember any of it.
you didn’t know you were a lemurian, and a respected high priestess chosen by the sea god at that.
didn’t know you spent more than half your life at his side, dancing with him, singing with him, falling in love with him.
the worst part is you had no idea it was him who killed you.
caused your demise the second the human girl’s eyes landed on him, took his head in her hands, and kissed him.
you couldn’t have known any of that, now. in the present. how could you?
not when you had begged the sea—begged astra, begged any god who might be listening—to erase your memory and spare you from ever seeing him again.
to be reborn without the weight of loving him ever again.
and even if you forgot... even if the sea did not heed your prayers, refused your plea to be freed from him...
he remembers, forced to live with his mistakes every day of his immortal life.
“rafayel, do you think in another life...we’d still find each other?”
your voice—younger, brighter, full of innocence the world had not yet stolen—echoes in his mind as he turns to look at you, eyes glazing over yours, feeling his heartbeat quicken by your gentle voice.
he sees you clearly. sees how you’re there, lying on the sand floor, intertwining your fingers in soft pink algae, eyes peeking at him in endearment.
the false lemurian sun reflects its rays off the scales of your tail, shimmering various shades of blue. your fins fluttering with iridescence.
he’s been liking it here—being by your side, in your company.
he likes the way your eyes always seem to find him whenever he walks in a room.
likes the way you’re stuck by his side, whether it be in official sea god duties, or sitting near him in the palace library, surrounded by scriptures from sea gods of eras past that you had been tasked by the high elders with deciphering.
he likes hearing your laughter fill the air, enjoys the way the corner of your eyes crinkles, especially if it’s from something he said.
and in this moment, everything is peaceful—quiet. an escape from the chaotic world that’s been forced upon him since birth.
a world filled with etiquette training and rituals that needed to be memorized. a world filled with blessing his subjects on his divine throne in the holy temple, and ensuring the sea would maintain their kingdom forever.
the constant monitoring from the royal guards, the harsh scolding of the temple’s elder when rafayel did something unbecoming of a future ruler.
and rafayel had been trying to leave that world for quite some time now.
so, that morning, when you sauntered towards him, he shot up an eyebrow in curiosity.
saw the way a devilish grin appeared on your lips. a look of mischief on your features.
you offered him no explanation as you manifested your tail, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the temple, and he didn’t even second-guess it.
your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to you.
it wasn’t like him to remain so quiet, and he sees it, the way it worries you. the way your brow is furrowed while he’d been preoccupied in his own mind.
a quiet chuckle escapes him.
there’s a sudden small school of blue flammula that surrounds you, and he sees how a special little red one flows through the wisps of your hair, causing you to take your worries off him and to the fish that charms you.
he stares, taking it in. the way you don no priestess attire. no pearls or bangles of gold heavy enough to weigh you down. no grandiloquent terms, no prayer voice.
in this moment, you were unapologetically you.
as if resonating with his thoughts, the flammula kisses your cheek before swimming away from you and back into his palm, disappearing into nothing but bubbles.
your eyes look up to his once more, finding nothing but the fondness you fragilely reserve just for him.
“i think in every life, i’d find my way back to you.” he whispers.
a beautiful, damning lie.
he doesn’t know what compelled him that night. why something in him was being called to the surface. why fate was pulling him away from you—something visceral, denoting that he needed to leave you behind.
there was never a time you two hadn't journeyed to the surface together.
but tonight, with the moon hanging low and the tides ebbing and flowing, he finds himself neatly brushing the hair away from your face and setting it gently behind your ears. he places a kiss on your forehead, delicate enough not to wake you, and slips out of the room quietly.
tail cutting through the current, lightning, and waves as high as cliffs rising with each stroke, he follows the desperate pleas of a young maiden and the cruel voices of evil, despicable men.
the first human brought into the sea for half a millennium was placed securely in the arms of the future sea god.
she breathes under water just as every lemurian does. and as a human, it should be deemed impossible, but only those from lemuria understand the implications.
she swims through the water as if it had always been her first home. she converses with the children and makes them laugh with her human humor. she even chases them through the halls, disregarding the warning of the other priestesses and the elders.
she’s put in the palace’s finest clothing with garments specifically crafted for the queen and princess of lemuria themselves.
unexpectedly, a statue of her is prepared in the god of tides temple, built in her honor by the finest sculptors of lemuria.
he takes her above the surface to watch the sunrise per her request, allowing her the gift of walking atop the ocean’s water where she gleefully runs and twirls. it reminds him of you—of the way you reacted the same. of the way you smiled at him, eyes shimmering with joy.
and she stands by rafayel as if she has always belonged by his side.
you pull away from him now—subtle at first—but he feels it.
eyes that would find him immediately, no matter the distance, remained on anything else—always avoidant when he walked into a room with the human girl nearby; you didn’t so much as spare him a glance, going as far as evading conversations entirely. only speaking unless spoken to.
you didn’t visit him in his quarters anymore, didn’t seek him out, didn’t even thank him when he placed an ocean jasper atop your study.
you had even disappeared for a few days, and in his observant state, he had asked his ladies in waiting if you had returned home. when they shook their heads no, he asked his guards if they saw you leaving the temple. but no avail, you weren’t anywhere near the palace nor the temple.
curiosity turns into worry. worry turns into desperation, and he eventually approaches your home, sensing no trace of your presence.
his heart lurches, his hands slightly tremble, and anxiety crawls up his spine.
after a few knocks, it’s your mother who opens the door, eyes faltering into indifference towards the young man she had once idolized, standing before her cautiously.
he asks where you’d gone.
in a sullen voice, the older lemurian does not look at her sea god.
“she’s gone off the surface, but do not look for her. she does not wish to be found.”
before he could even think of asking any further questions, she shuts the door, and he realizes he cannot do anything except return to the palace.
he finds the fragile human girl awaiting him at the steps, surrounded by the children, with a smile, but he brushes her off and enters his chamber.
he doesn’t sleep; he doesn’t eat. he can’t heed the attention the human gives him, no matter how inquisitive she becomes, no matter how much his mother tells him to offer her nothing but kindness.
his thoughts remain on you and only you.
where had you gone? what do you mean you didn’t wish to be found? what if...
none of his questions were answered.
a full week later, you return, offering him no explanation as he swims straight into your arms, holding you tightly, uttering words of how much he’s missed you.
but you don’t let the moment linger as you gently pry his arms from your waist, placing them back at his side, ignoring the pained expression on his face, you ultimately force a smile to ease his consciousness, hoping it's enough for him to take the hint, to leave you alone, and allow you to enter quietly towards the entrance of your home.
you swore to yourself that you’d never whisper a word of what you discovered in the tome of the sea god during your visit to the narrowing depths of whalefall city. an area so hidden not even the god of tides himself knew existed.
the human he saved from the world above was willing to offer her heart for lemuria.
he tells you this one night in your study. tells you how she’s vowed to become his devoted follower.
but you don’t look up from your scripture; you don’t even acknowledge him.
“elder amund said with her pure heart, lemuria will flourish for centuries to come. that it even said so in the tome of the sea god.”
your lack of communication remains, and he’s met with the same silence you’ve given him for weeks.
“isn’t that good? after the ceremony, all this will end. the endless parading around, the incessant temple rituals. we’ll finally have time together again. things can go back to the way they used to.”
he hides the way his voice falters—tries to mask the fact that he’s breaking the longer you don’t speak to him. but you remain detached and continue with your work.
for a moment, his gaze drifts, searching for anything to anchor him, and a flicker of light brings his attention to a painting he hadn’t seen before.
an image of two figures atop the sea’s waters, the colors encapsulating dawn. with the shadows of the room, he finds it harder to make the finer details, but he’s sure there’s a third individual. it must’ve been something you painted recently. if only he could step closer and...
you rise from your desk with a rush, turning your back towards him and to the next item on the shelf, pulling his attention entirely away from the painting and onto you.
he refocuses, trying to reclaim the conversation.
“we can travel to the surface again and-”
before he can finish, the sharp slam of a book on your study cuts through the air, bubbles rising violently from your abrupt action, scattering everywhere, much like your anger.
you’re irate, that much he can tell. he sees it in the ways your brows furrow, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your nose flares.
but just as your outrage burns, it fades away with a deep breath, and you regain your composure.
using a tone he’s only ever heard you use towards the elders, towards his own mother and father, you finally speak.
“your quintessence, don’t you have a ceremony to prepare for?"
it’s bittersweet, but it’s the first words you’ve addressed to him in weeks.
he scoffs, trying to hold back the way his heart aches at the name. “when have you ever addressed me as such?”
“since the future sea god has found his bride. now, i must ask you to leave this room.”
“is that what this is about? you’re upset that i’ve found the heart needed to sustain our world? the world that i, as the sea god, must protect? and stop calling her my bride, she is naught.”
he steps closer, eyes narrowing, hands curling at his sides.
“you won’t do it.” your anger surges back into your posture—into the way you speak. “you won’t sacrifice her rafayel, i know you won’t.”
he doesn’t like where this is going. doesn’t understand what causes him to allow the next words to leave his mouth.
“then you don’t know me at all.”
no. that’s not what he wanted to say.
he just needs you to understand, but it’s too late.
you scowl, and his gaze drops to the blood that escapes from your clenched fist.
“no. it seems that i don’t know you at all. maybe i never did.”
because you knew him better than anyone, knew him like it was in your very dna.
and he also knew, deep down, that you spoke the truth. when you told him he wouldn’t sacrifice her.
he couldn’t rip out her heart when the time came.
instead, he had told her to run, to find a way out of the temple and back to the surface without being caught.
and when she looked back at him, worry and fear in her eyes, the human girl understood.
the supposed vengeful sea god was granting her mercy, allowing her to live another day.
and it had cost him everything.
after the earthquakes and the dust settled, after the screams and sobs of lemurians both adults and children alike, eventually fell into silence, the survivors were guided to find temporary refuge deeper in the ocean.
you’re there in the frontlines with the other priestesses, even a few of the elders.
your brother is helping with those injured by the fallen debris, and your mother takes the guppies who weren’t even days old, allowing their mothers to get the proper care they needed before the journey.
your father is in the council trying to determine where the fate of lemuria stands with the royal family's untimely deaths.
both the king and queen gone, along with the princess, there was no one except rafayel now.
and you watch as he stands there, eyes on the fire needed to sustain such a civilization flickering detrimentally unsteady. there are tears in his eyes as his aunt stands by him, rubbing his shoulders as they mourn.
despite his loss, you still could not bear to look him in the eyes.
visceral hatred seeped into your bones. rage coated every one of your thoughts.
you had known. you knew he couldn’t do it. you had told him, even warned him.
he could’ve saved his family, could’ve saved his home.
but he couldn’t because he loved her.
even if he remained oblivious to his own feelings, even if he had acted as though she were nothing more than a sacrifice, you saw it with your own eyes. felt it in your soul. confirmed it when you read it in the tome.
your sea god had fallen for the human, and what awaited the rest of you all was death and destruction.
a/n: i cried sm writing this, and it's not even the worst part lmaoo. also this chapter was fueled by je te laisserai des mots live version, back to you by not for radio, and champagne coast. so enjoy 😋
(i do want to acknowledge that ocean memories by yuansie was a huge inspiration for this part so please check that series out, it's one of my favs!)
