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The Sanctuary

{The high fantasy prequel to "Cleaning Up the Timeline" Combining all limited myths. Polycule. Reader-centric.}

Read on ao3.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Slow Burn, Magic, Fantasy AU, Merman!Rafayel, grumpy Rafayel

Chapter Five: Rafayel

Zayne barely hides his amusement when you come back to the cottage dripping wet. You stand in the open doorway, frowning as you slowly begin to take off your shoes.

He watches you from his worktable, hiding the parchment he’d been writing on with another blank piece. It’s fascinating to him, how everything you do is some manner of amusing to him. Even on your crankiest of days, he finds himself enamored by the sneer of your upper lip or the way your voice changes when you snap at him.

The drip of icy water onto the floor should be a nuisance, but instead he finds it comical. Whatever mischief you were up to obviously did not pan out in your favor.

“Tis a bit cold for swimming still,” Zayne says, intending to lighten your soggy mood.

Peeling the layers of drenched cloth from your body, you give him a withering look– unamused by his teasing. Zayne freezes, muscles locked as you linger in the doorway undressing. A serrated blade against his sanity is the smooth expanse of skin you so casually expose, and it’s not until he catches the curve of your breast that he’s startled enough to move.

Whirling on his heel, he grabs his discarded cloak and throws it to you, trying his hardest to not look at you while he does. Zayne hears a soft oomph as the fabric smacks you in the face, and the rustle of it as you cover yourself up.

Busy. He needs to keep his hands busy. His mind needs something else to look at instead of trying to kill him with such vivid imaginings. In that tiny glimpse, his mind had enough to fill in the rest.

Zayne fiddles uselessly with the fire, adding unnecessary logs and poking at the bright embers, while you change into something dry.

“So, Cosme was right.” You say as you finish, and pad over to sit next to him by the fire. You reach out your hands to warm your frosty palms, and Zayne sees the paleness of your fingertips and frowns.

“Right about what?” Zayne asks, barely paying attention because he’s too busy wishing his innate power was fire instead of frost.

“The monster,” You say with a soft laugh, “I went to the pool he said, and there’s definitely a monster in there.”

Zayne tears his eyes away from your hands, finally confused enough to break away from his thoughts, “You jest.”

“I do not!” You insist, “I saw him with my own eyes. A man with the features of a fish!”

Zayne’s expression darkens. There are innumerable creatures on Philos– a bestiary list that runs miles long. Deadly and dangerous is every corner of this war torn place, but few match the bloodthirst and greed of man. A creature hunts to feed, and a monster kills before it can be killed. If there is such a monster in the pools, a man is the worst thing it could be.

He scans you closer now, searching for injury. “Did it attack you?”

You shake your head, “No. He was rude, but made no attempt to hurt me beyond splashing me.”

Zayne didn’t look soothed by that, “What did it want? Did it speak?”

You’re a little put off by the icy edge to Zayne’s voice, and the fact he keeps referring to the mysterious god of the ponds as it. “He spoke, but he didn’t say that he wanted anything. Oh! Well, he did say that my ‘offerings’ weren’t to his liking, and he claimed to be a sea god.”

Your giggle relieves some of the tension, but unease coils in Zayne’s mind. It lingers there through the rest of the night, leaving his stomach in knots.

But this? Some beast living right under his nose was too much to bear. It’d been close enough to touch you, and as the two of you lay down to sleep that night, Zayne finds himself nauseous. He could have lost you today. He could have been sitting at home, pondering a house expansion to make more room for you– while you were snatched from him. Extinguioshed as easily as candle flame.

Zayne resists the urge to embrace you, and it’s a struggle. The desire to feel you against him nearly has him breathless, like his skin might burn without the balm of your touch. He compromises with that besotted side of him by brushing his hand over your hair and pushing it out of your face.

He feeds you, makes sure there are extra blankets on the bed, and sends you to rest with a book about rabbits. Satisfied that you are alive, safe, and warm, Zayne makes the resolute decision that you need more protection. Your curiosity may just be your fatal flaw, but Zayne will be damned if he allows anyone to take advantage of that. ------------------------

Locked away like this– trapped within this tiny pool– Rafayel occupies the majority of his time with sleep. He can spend months in a half-waking state, floating around his craggy prison, but dreaming he’s back in the illuminance of Lemuria.

The chain around his neck is the first thing he feels when pulled unbidden from his reverie. The cool of the water tells him it’s winter, which is peculiar, because he’d never be so sloppy as to accidentally wake during this dreaded time of year.

Yet, something prevents Rafayel from falling back asleep. A disturbance in the air that jolts him back awake whenever he drifts off. Like a bell going off in the distance, there is a sensation in his chest like he’s forgotten something. And yet, Rafayel knows that isn’t possible. Every rock, crevice and pebble in his pond-prison is here and accounted for.

In the limited space he has, he swims upwards, breaching the water’s surface to just below his eyes. There’s nothing remarkable about the cavern– nothing different from the last time except for new moss and…light?

Rafayel’s brow lowers. Another mortal, it seems. Venturing where they don’t belong.

The first time he sees you, it’s tiny glimpses of just the top of your head over the craggy rocks. You’re so focused on some inane task that you don’t even bother looking at your surroundings. You don’t see him– even when he leans at the edge of the pool– and Rafayel isn’t sure why that bothers him so much.

If it is you that woke him up, then at the very least you prove to be good entertainment. A spectacle of succeeding and failing simultaneously. He watches you catch yourself on fire, desperately plunging into the water, and he finds himself feeling a pang of something sharp in his chest. A momentary prick of what can only be concern.

You escape the water, and the feeling secedes.

Though, as you leave, Rafayel laughs. It’s been too long since he’s found any enjoyment from mortals that wasn’t derived from their well-deserved suffering. What a peculiar little gull you are…

You return not too long after that. Rafayel can feel you draw close, as if your footsteps cause unseen disturbances in his waters. What magic do you possess to cause such an effect? Its volatile, wild, but quiet. Curiosity, piqued, Rafayel lingers in the shallows so that you can see him, instead of hiding deep below.

Rafayel forgives you for the meager offering the first time. The scrap of dried fish is the first food he’s had besides algae and krill for a long long while, but he’s still a god. Your reaction to him is expected. You’re overcome with awe at the sight of him– as you should be. Look, look, you can barely speak!

Except, your expression changes. The awe morphs to indignation, and you dare question him for defending himself against that whelp. He scolds you– because clearly you don’t understand the power dynamic here– and you leave him no choice but to splash you like a child. Maybe next time, you’ll think harder before you speak.

Rafayel decides to forgive you, because he’s an admirer of all things beautiful– and even soggy and grumpy— you are breathtaking.

You don’t return for several days after that, and Rafayel knows this because he hasn’t slept at all since. Dreams hold less appeal to him over the opportunity to see you again. Don’t ask him why, he doesn’t know. It’s one of the very few times he’s happy he is alone down here. How would he explain to his aunt why he lingers in the shallows for someone he barely met?

Like a fisherman, Rafayel waits. He circles around the tiny pool, shifting the water so that you know he’s there, but he waits. Waits until you set down whatever it is you’ve brought, and sit near the water’s edge. Not too close, he notices, not within reach.

You jump slightly when Rafayel breaches the surface, keeping the bottom half of his face in the water. His brow quirks at your animated reaction, amused already by you.

“Oh! You scared me!” You huff softly, placing your hand over your chest, where a woven shawl lies. He can sense the magic laced within the wool, someone has made great effort in putting protection into those threads. Rafayel wonders who…

“You knew I was here,” Rafayel tries not to sound too mocking as he rises up, “It’s your own fault for being scared.”

It’s odd to him that you laugh at that. A melodic sound that feels like a song he can’t believe he’s forgotten. The chains securing him rattle against one another as he grabs hold of the mossy edge, and lifts himself up to rest his torso upon it.

His sea-glass eyes fall upon the basket in front of you, and he grins, “Have you come with better offerings then? Show me.”

Your amusement should offend him, but it doesn’t. Rafayel can feel the measured way you move yourself— you’re cautious of him, but oh so curious as well.

“I brought some bread and some cheese.” You explain, unwrapping a sturdy cheddar from some cloth. You place it in front of him, and then the bread next to it. A little meal fit for a mouse.

Rafayel stares at it for a moment, and you quickly dive back into the basket, “Oh! And some berries. They’re dried, I hope that’s okay.”

A little handful of wrinkled fruits decorates his cloth plate, and he slowly reaches out to tug it closer. If Rafayel’s being honest, it’s a pathetic offering for a god, but for some reason he accepts it anyway. If this is all you can spare, then it is worth its weight in gold.

He starts with the cheese, admiring the sharp tang of it. It’s been so long since he’s had food. Although this body may have no need of it, doesn’t mean it isn’t missed.

“Who are you?” You ask gently, tilting your head slightly and reminding him of a baby seal.

In between nibbles of sun-ripened fruit, Rafayel replies, “I already told you who I am. I am god of the tides and the seas. Not the god of ponds.”

You cover your mouth to hide your smile, and quickly correct yourself. “I’m sorry about that…I didn’t mean to be rude last time. I thought you might be a beast pretending to be a god— you did bite Cosme, didn’t you?”

Rafayel’s expression sours, “What’s a Cosme?”

“He’s…The little boy you bit? He said you nearly drowned him.” You deadpan, pointing behind you to what is likely that poor excuse for a village that’s taken root.

“Ah, yes. The whelp.” Rafayel hums, leaning on his elbows to delicately tear apart the bread. He takes two pieces and places small bits of cheese on each, and a single dried berry on top. He hands one to you, and eats the other. “He intruded upon my pool. Threw rocks into it, and refused to leave when warned. I am justified in punishing the child, since his sire clearly doesn’t.”

You hold the offered food for a few moments, glancing between it and him before taking a bite.

“Tell this Cosme,” Rafayel says, repeating the motion and handing you another bite. “That so long as he remains where he belongs, he has nothing to fear. And I did not bite him.”

You are less timid this time when taking your portion, “Your nails then?” You ask, motioning with your head to his hands.

The dark stain of his fingernails has turned more black than plum in the years of isolation, some unfathomable manifestation of his misery no doubt. They’ve also grown too long, pointed like the cut of a shark’s tooth.

“Most likely.” He replies, disappointed to find there are no more berries, “To be true, I do not remember the interaction clearly. Such a thing is of no consequence to me.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” You speak quieter now, “Why are you here?”

Rafayel pauses for a moment. It’s a perfectly reasonable question, and asked so innocently. Like a child sat for storytime asking why the sun rises and sets.

“You really want to know?” Rafayel decides to play with you a bit, shifting forward, the chain rustling.

You nod a few times, adjusting to sit up straighter. It’s so darling that Rafayel almost indulges you. He almost spills the story of this imprisonment without a second thought.

The heavy shackle around his neck is enough weight to stop him. Grinning, Rafayel leans back, sliding back into the water. It’s too cold up here, and his skin is starting to dry an uncomfortable amount.

“Bring more berries,” Rafayel replies, “And maybe I’ll tell you.”

You bring more berries, and even a small bottle of sour wine. It’s wretched tasting, but warms his belly enough that he lingers. Lounging at the water’s edge, Rafayel can feel you studying him. He can feel when you lean closer, when you think he’s not looking, to try and get a better eyeful of his tail.

Rafayel doesn’t tell you that time either, but he does learn your name. You give it first, and bring with you a book. You offer it to him, worried he might be bored stuck there all day. He takes the token, and finds himself unreasonably pleased.

For the first time in forever, Rafayel looks forward to the passage of time. You only visit near twilight, and so your visit is cut short by the loss of the light. It’s not everyday either, but it’s enough to become routine. Expected.

It’s the fifth time that he gives you his name.

You’ve brought a notebook this time, practicing writing with a coal stylus while he eats your latest offering. A cornbread, mulberry jam, and strips of dried venison.

“Rafayel.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

The movement of your stylus stops, and you look up. There’s a swipe of charcoal on your cheek that’s so endearing his heart hurts, “Pardon?”

”Rafayel.” He repeats. “It’s my name.”

You smile. Now, it’s been a long time since Rafayel has seen the sun— nearly a century in fact, but he’s certain it feels like this. The warmth that coats him must be the same, and he’d do anything to feel it again.

Kindly, you reply, “It’s nice to meet you, Rafayel.” ---------------------

Next time, the weather has turned even colder. Snow and ice leak in through the vents of the cave, and when you visit Rafayel again, you’re bundled in a large fur. Rafayel’s skin emanates soft steam, revealing the sheer contrast between the icy air and him.

You greet him as you always do, by putting down your basket and setting out some food. Today is a special treat– salted ham, soft goat cheese, and barley biscuits. You lay them out on a cloth he’s come to recognize, embroidered with poorly made fish with pink and orange scales. It’s amateurish, but surely this must be one of your first tries.

Rafayel wipes his hands before eating now, and listens to you talk about your sanctuary. “We found some mushrooms today! Yvonne sliced them up and roasted them with some rosemary, they were delicious. I saved some for you.”

From the basket, you pull out another bundle, unwrapping it like a precious treasure to show him some wrinkled fungi. Rafayel tries to hide his grimace, as you seem so happy about it. Though he can’t help but recoil slightly when you offer him one.

You giggle at his reaction, “C’mon, they’re yummy. Just a bite?”

Rafayel frowns at your teasing, “I’ll bite you. Put those shriveled things away, I’ll have no part of it.”

With a shrug, you put them back. “Your loss. Zayne gave me a book that shows which mushrooms are poisonous, so you won’t get sick– if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Another mention of Zayne. It’s not the first time you’ve spoken about this unseen male character, and it won’t be the last either. Rafayel is silently envious, wondering if you talk about him too.

You curl up a bit tighter, drawing the fur fully around your shoulders. The air is bitter and Rafayel watches the vapor of your breath with each exhale. Such a sacrifice you’ve made, trekking here just to see him.

“Rafayel?” Your voice calls to him– sunlight and redemption in the sound of his name.

“Hm?” He replies, cracking a biscuit in half.

“You’re not human, are you?” You say it hesitantly, like you’re afraid to offend him.

Rafayel chuckles, handing you your share of food. “Really? What ever gave you that idea?”

His nonchalance comforts you, and you giggle, “I guess the scales and living in a pond were fairly strong hints…You still haven’t told me anything about you, and I can’t help but be curious.”

“Of course you are,” Rafayel scoffs, “I’m very interesting, and I doubt you’ve ever seen anything like me. Right?”

“Oh, most certainly,” You joke, “But, if you’re not human, then what are you?”

Rafayel raises a brow at you, “You ask too many questions, koukla. You know my name, you know where I am, why do you need more?”

Your brow pinches, “We are friends aren’t we? We should know more about each other than simple names. For instance, why are you here? Surely you’re not here because you want to be.”

Ah, that question again. Now normally, your presence makes it so Rafayel can almost forget the shackles around his wrists and the collar around his neck. The chains of this curse become lighter. However, whenever you press about it, they weigh down heavier. A cold reminder of his folly.

“Maybe I’m a liar,” Rafayel drawls, leaning his chin on his hands, “Maybe I really am the god of this pond…”

He’d expected you to laugh. Hoped for it, really. Another clever diversion to avoid satisfying that persistent curiosity of yours. Because what if– what if– when you have all the answers, you stop coming? In such a short amount of time, Rafayel now has a hard time imagining life without you and your little basket.

You don’t say anything, shedding your fur and crawling closer to the water’s edge. The moss beneath your hand squelches with moisture. He keeps his expression steeled, but his breath catches like hooks in his throat when you reach out to him.

Your fingers hook around the chain hanging from his neck, and a sparkling sensation jolts through him. Down his loosened spine as if you’ve grabbed hold of a live nerve. Gritting his teeth, Rafayel pulls back, determined to put distance between you, but you come with.

Frozen in place, Rafayel can’t force himself to drag you into the frigid water. So, the two of you sit there for a moment, staring intensely at one another.

“Stop misleading me.” You demand, fingers clenching tighter on the chain, “This is no trinket or accessory… Are you trapped here?”

Rafayel’s upper lip curls, “You insist and insist. Demanding a story I don’t wish to tell.”

You don’t cower at the sight of his sharp teeth. For a moment, you look more determined and then, your expression softens. Your grip relaxes, cupping the chain and trailing down it for a moment, “How can I help you if I don’t know?”

A pause. Rafayel’s guard lowers slightly, as he’s surprised by the compassion in your voice. Not just a curious mouse, but a mourning dove, weeping over the wretched state of him.

Gently, Rafayel reaches up and takes your shivering hand. He removes it from the chain and doesn't let go of you until you’re secure on the shore, a few feet away from the water, and back in the relative warmth of your furs.

“Mortals should not concern themselves with the strife of gods,” Rafayel says cooly, “but I will tell you my story.”

You pull the fur tight around your shoulders, and the look in your eyes makes it hard to look away.

“A long while ago– I’m not sure how long– a creature arrived in my waters. It threatened the balance of the currents, and so I responded.” Rafayel began as he found a comfortable spot with his arms folded on the moss. You inched closer, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“What was it?” You ask, breathing hotly into your frigid hands.

“Leviathan.” Rafayel spits the name like a curse. “A sea serpent from the pits of hell, seeking only destruction. It would have drank up my oceans and devoured my people if I had not acted.”

Visions of that nightmarish beast rose in Rafayel’s mind. Scales black at the night sky, teeth like broadswords, and hollow eyes. One life taken was too many, and the Leviathan stole dozens during its rampage. The pristine marble and opal of his city turned to dust floating in blood-tinged waters.

“I fought the Leviathan for many days, forcing it away from my people.” Rafayel continued, “Neither one of us tired, not until summer turned to autumn and the cold air swept across us. It must have realized it stood no chance of winning against me, and attempted to flee.”

You’re listening intently, but now shivering. Rafayel reaches out one hand, palm facing up, and summons what little magic he can. The flame that sparks in the cup of his fingers is pathetic in comparison to what he should be able to do, but your eyes light up nonetheless.

It warms you enough to stop the worst of the shivers, and Rafayel feels a completely unrelated heat bloom in his chest.

“It carved tunnels from the sea underground, desperate to evade me.” Rafayel speaks a bit softer now that you’re closer. “I couldn’t allow that. I knew that if I let it escape it would only return again. And again. And again.”

He looks around the ceiling of the cavern, the stalactites dangling high overhead. You mimic the action, intrigued.

“It was here I trapped it. Speared upon my trident like nothing more than wriggling eel.” Rafayel remembers the way the Leviathan thrashed, cutting through stone and pockets of magma like a knife through butter. “This very hollow in the mountain is its tomb. The bones and flesh are what fertilize this dirt, and the remnants of its hatred are what bind me to this place.”

Confusion and concern mingle in your expression, “So, you are stuck here?”

“Yes, koukla, I’m stuck here.” Rafayel chuckles, “With its dying breath, the Leviathan closed off my escape back to the sea and sealed me here. Determined to make this place my grave as well.”

You think for a moment, and Rafayel lets you. Resting his chin on his hand and admiring the way your face contorts in thought. If things were different, and he’d met you near Lemuria…

…he’d probably have no idea what to do with you. Locked away like this, Rafayel can’t run from even his feelings, and so has to sit and stew in them. Face to face with the first inklings of desire he’s felt, likely ever.

“How do we break them?” You say determinedly, shifting like you might try and snap the chains with your bare hands.

While Rafayel is tempted to let you, he simply shakes his head. “I invoked the wrath of a being beyond even my complete understanding. I fear there is more to setting me free than simply breaking chains.”

You’re visibly displeased, frowning, “I’m sure there’s a way. Zayne has lots of books, I’m sure he has something that can help.”

Your naivety is endearing if not a bit frustrating. Trapped in this awful place…how will you ever learn? Books are hardly a replacement for life, and if these damned chains weren’t in the way he’d…

Rafayel huffs at his own line of thought. The years here are decaying him, and he’s sick of it.

Another large shiver wracks through you, and Rafayel sighs. Extinguishing his flames, he reaches out and tugs softly on the edge of your furs cloak, “Go home, girl. You’ll freeze if you stay any longer.”

He can see you silently debate it, but then relent. You nod softly, gathering up your basket and belongings to retreat to the warmth. You pause before leaving, and speak firmly, “I’ll read as much as I can, and find new books if I have to. We’ll find a way, somehow.”

Rafayel almost believes you as he descends back to the depths. -------------------

The next time you visit, Rafayel breaches the surface before you’re even visible over the uneven rocks. Prepared for a basket of food and a few hours of company, Rafayel’s smile is embarrassingly giddy.

Except it disappears when he realizes it is not you that approaches, but a man.

Rafayel does not cower before anyone, and does not start now. The man that approaches has an aura that rivals his own, divinity lies in his blood in one form or another.

Robes of navy and gold, and hair of coal. Rafayel recognizes this intruder as the young man that had taken refuge here over a decade ago. The sea god is surprised he still lives, and irritated he has lingered.

They stare at each other, waiting for the other to break the tense, violent silence.

Zayne. You speak about him enough that Rafayel knows his name, and is familiar enough with stories of him to know he’s a gentle, reserved man. However, the intensity burning in those golden-green eyes does not speak of a timid man.

This could end in bloodshed, Rafayel realizes, and debates for a moment whether it’s worth it to avoid. Some haughty individual— demigod or otherwise— intruding upon Rafayel’s imprisonment warrants at least a reprimand.

Except…you favor Zayne. You are fond of him, in a deeply profound way. In a way that Rafayel covets deep within himself, but refuses to acknowledge. Rafayel can’t kill Zayne, because you would most certainly cry.

No pearls today.

“Have we met?” Rafayel offers, lilting his voice into carefree aloofness.

Zayne is not amused, and his eyes narrow. “No.”

Well, that’s hardly a friendly greeting. A part of Rafayel wants to respond in kind, bare his teeth, and intimidate this mere mortal into submission. But Rafayel can’t help but feel like he’s in the wrong somehow, like he’s treaded where he doesn’t belong and stepped on the tail of a guardian cat.

Rafayel debates his next words, and wonders whether Zayne’s fur is ruffled because some unknown creature lurks on his land…or because he’s befriended you.

“Then our introduction is long overdue,” Rafayel says, leaning casually on some rocks. Away from where he usually sits with you, as it feels wrong without you there. “You’ve been here for quite a while, and never noticed me?”

Zayne doesn’t visibly react, but his magic curls around him, flexing like a muscle poised to strike. He exhales, and the aura relaxes, billowing outward as if he second guesses the impulsive irritation. “Your presence is hardly noticeable. I thought it was a remnant of some deceased creature.”

It’s spoken so cooly, it’s hard to recognize as the jab he intends it to be. A parry in their dull spar they’ve started, and Rafayel finds himself grinning. “Sorry to disappoint you, as I am very much still alive. Though…why check now? What sparked your interest?”

Rafayel somehow already knows the answer.

“This place is peaceful, and under my protection. Anything that threatens that has to answer to me.” Zayne says evenly. He speaks like listing a common rule that everyone knows, like Rafayel is a child ignorant of the way of things. “She is under my protection as well. Whatever game you are playing, end it now.“

The smirk Raphael wore slowly fades as the sincerity of Zayne’s declaration falls onto him, heavier than the shackle around his neck. His warning of threatening the sanctuary is cold, but the one about you is deadly.

With the playing ground set and the pieces lined up, Rafayel now understands the confrontation. It’s like he thought; he got too close to something Zayne holds precious… But how to proceed?

Rafayel adjusts his expression to be more casual. He lowers his shoulders to appear less predatory and makes sure that when he speaks, his upper lip remains covering his sharpened incisors. Despite being large, he can appear rather small, timid even.

“You can forgive an imprisoned man for finding amusement when opportunity strikes.” Rafayel says with a small shrug, “I’d promise that you have nothing to fear from me, but I don’t think my words have much weight for you. I can do little to stop the girl if she wishes to visit me. Do you intend to keep her away?”

Zayne’s expression is hard to read, but there are tiny flicks of his eyelashes and a twitch in his lips. If Rafayel had longer, he knows he could learn Zayne’s mannerisms like a second language. He wonders if you know Zayne well enough to know these tiny things. Could you translate for him if you were here?

“She is under the impression that she can help you in some way. That you are in need of her aid.” Zayne informs coldly. “What could a creature like you want with her?”

Rafayel tilts his head slightly, “What an interrogation! It was her idea to bother me, and continue to visit me. She forced my story from me, and insisted upon helping. I asked for nothing. — Though, if you’re offering, I’d enjoy a finer cheese selection, if you don't mind.”

Zayne huffs softly, like he believes Rafayel’s words because that’s just like you isn’t it? So very like you to insert yourself where you don’t belong and befriend an unfriendly creature. For a single moment, the two men are in agreement in their exasperation and endearment of you.

The dark haired man thinks, and his piercing eyes leave Rafayel. When he speaks, the serrated edge in his voice is gone, and Rafayel knows he is no longer in immediate danger.

“The magic that binds you here is unfamiliar to me,” Zayne says contemplative, “There’s likely little I can do to break it, let alone her infantile magic. Do not let her harbor false hopes — can it be broken?”

Rafayel debates lying but after so long stuck in this little pool, what’s the point?

“It can.” He says plainly. “The mechanics of how have escaped me as of yet.”

Zayne looks at Rafayel. Eyes dragging down his form and to the rackety chain along his chest. The metal that binds him has not rusted nor corroded, even throughout the decades that it has been underwater. An unfamiliar script is carved along the collar and the shackles, and a deep, apocalyptic magic runs through its structure.

“If you were free, where would you go?”

Zayne’s question surprises Rafayel, and the sea god does not know the answer for a few moments. Where would he go? Surely back to Lemuria, but the sea has been anxious and angry in his absence. What remains of that opulent civilization… Is anything left that he would recognize?

“Home, I suppose.” Rafayel answers.

Zayne’s brow quirks like he expected that answer, and his arms cross. “I do not trust you not to take her with you.”

And the truth is revealed for why Zayne truly came here. For such a distinguished individual, he truly is just another mortal— insecure of losing something he loves. It’s amazing to Rafayel, if not a bit uncanny.

“Then you have my word that I shall not steal away your apprentice, if you find a way to free me.” Rafayel swears with an air of amusement.

“I do not know if I can trust your word.”

Rafayel hums softly, acquiescing that that is a valid statement to make. One should not make a habit of trusting scaled men in heart shaped ponds.

“A promise I make is a vow of the ocean, unbreakable and unchanging as the sea itself.” Rafayel says, a little more serious this time. “Whether you take my word or not, I remain here. Oh, but if you would— could you bring me something new to read?”

Zayne sighs as he turns away, heading back towards his settlement, and back to you.

As he retreats back to the dark of his pool, Rafayel makes the decision to ignore you the next time you come. As a punishment for spilling his secrets. Though as he settles into rest, he’s relieved that he did not have to fight and kill your friend. And, he knows that that decision to punish you will dissolve the instant he hears your footsteps again. ------------

Books are very useful until they’re not— which, you suppose, is how much of the world works. A fishing pole is very useful until it breaks. A coat is very warm until it wears. And books are only helpful if they contain the information that you seek which, despite Zayne’s impressive collection, none of them do.

You know Zayne suspects you. Try as you might, you’re not very sneaky, and you’ve been scouring through his library for days. He doesn’t ask about what you’re doing, keeping to himself for the most part. You debate asking him for help. Maybe he knows some way of breaking Rafayel’s chains, but you decide against it. Getting Rafayel to tell you why he was there was like pulling teeth, and you dreaded to think of the punishment he will give you if you gossip about it to strangers. With how cold it’s become, you’re not sure you could survive another splash.

A seed of guilt sprouts in your heart the longer this goes on. You don’t like keeping things from Zayne, and find words buzzing at the tip of your tongue more and more. Hiding Rafayel from Zayne feels like betrayal, only more so the more you befriend the god of ponds.

You were hoping by the time you visited Rafayel again that you would have answers. That you could bound up to him with excitement saying I found it. I found it! and cut free those horrible chains. You try to make up for your failure by packing more dried berries, and making a resolution to pick more as soon as the frost melts.

It took over a week before you were able to visit Rafayel again because a snowstorm had made it too treacherous to climb over the icy rocks. And from one of the books about sea life, you know the Rafayel is best protected deep underwater where the temperature is kept more stable.

Excited to see Rafayel again, but disappointed you cannot free him. You follow the now familiar path to his pool. Someday you hope Zayne comes with you — maybe in Spring, the three of you can picnic, and in the summer swim in the pool’s cool waters. You haven’t swam since you were a child and the memories of that are so faded and murky.

At times you can kind of remember someone teaching you to swim, but their face makes the back of your head hurt where that long heeled scar lingers. You think you dream of him sometimes, but just as the vision forms…it’s gone.

Right on time, just as you set the basket down, Rafayel breaches the surface of the pond. He glides closer and tries to peek inside as you unpack. You’ve brought a wooden bowl this time filled to the very brim with the dried mulberries, blackberries and wild strawberries.

He wastes no time and snatches one— even before saying hello.

“I couldn’t find anything,” You admit, “I looked through every book, and I couldn’t find anything about breaking a spell. There were lots of purification rituals, and runes for cleansing. I could try one of them, though I fear I might just polish the chains.”

Rafayel chuckles, “ I didn’t ask you to look, and so I’m not disappointed you didn’t find anything. Don’t look so glum, koukla, or you’ll make me think that you want me gone.”

“It’s just not fair,” You say, pouting slightly. “No one deserves to be locked away like this. You don’t seem that bothered by it, don’t you want to go home?”

Rafayel looks as serene as always, attention more appealed by the berries than you at the moment. “I prefer to enjoy the moment, and I like these offerings you bring me. Though, I must say… I didn’t think you’d fall for me so quickly, koukla. Does my pitiful state move you so?”

A heat rushes to your face and you scowl, “That’s—! You are too bold, pond god. My concern is not of love, but of simple decency!”

Rafayel rolls a berry between his fingers, examining it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Oh? Decency? A rare thing to find in mortals, and forgive me for being disappointed.”

You pause, confused, "Disappointed?"

Only Rafayel’s eyes move as they slide over to you, “Yes. If this is simple decency, I envy the devotion you must bestow on a beloved.”

It takes you a moment to process what he said while your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve never had a beloved, and so you can’t find words to respond for a moment. Romance is such a far off concept to you— affection and love mere ideas that exist for someone someplace else, but not you.

You think you harbor feelings for Zayne, but those little flutterings of your heart are so strange. It feels like madness, this desire to be near him. To help him. To impress him, too. Your tummy does flips when he smiles, that oh so gentle smile. And at night, as you tuck into bed, you find yourself disappointed by the inches of space between you.

Is Zayne your beloved then?

Is it wrong if the same things have been happening around Rafayel too?

You find time to see him whenever you can, and think of him all the time. You’ve gone through extra effort to trade with the other people in the sanctuary for more berries, because they’re his favorite. Plans for when spring comes have already been made. A permanent space in your heart that fits only him.

“I…” You try to say something, anything to fill the sudden silence. “I don’t think I’m destined for such things…”

It comes out more sad than you intended, and you can tell Rafayel is perturbed by it. His brow lowers, and he sets aside his morsel. Discarded back to the bowl in favor of reaching out to you. He pulls himself out of the water more, drawing the chains nearly taut.

Despite the strain to be closer to you, Rafayel’s smile is effortless, “Now, why would you say something so foolish?”

His hand finds yours, fingertips just barely touching. They’re so much warmer than you thought they would be. The first time you saw him procure flames from nothing, you had been speechless. It made no sense to you— this creature of saltwater and scales holding fire between his fingers…

But you can feel it, as your hand intertwines with his. The embers that must burn inside of him. You don’t think there is enough time in one lifespan to fully understand Rafayel, but you hope you get enough to at the very least call him a friend.

“One day…” Rafayel says, eyes glued to the way your fingers mingle together. The difference in the color of your skin, and the way he seems even more inhuman compared to the flush of your fingertips. “I’ll show you my home. Lemurian culture is founded with love. Our bodies become completely attuned with our counterpart. If there is anywhere in the world for you to learn such things, it is there.”

Your heart flutters like an uncertain hummingbird, tempted by the nectar of his softly-spoken promise. Lemuria feels like a taboo word, and it sends a small spark up your spine to hear it. Rafayel was so reluctant to even mention it before, and now he offers to take you there?

Confused to what it means, but feeling warm nonetheless, you nod.

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