Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sing Me to the Sea

What very few people know is that our great planet contains two worlds. The surface world of humans who dance on two feet and set roots in stone, and the ocean world where mermaids swim through coral palaces and travel where the currents take them.

But it is said that if you find true love, you can cross over from one world to another.

And if you can’t find love? Well, the devil might be willing to offer you a deal. Just be warned that the price may be more than you can bear to pay.

*

Wilhelm isn’t sure who Simon works for. He’s Felice’s handmaid’s brother but ‘handmaid’s brother’ isn’t actually a role in court. Felice only came with her mother - part of the agreement for Wilhelm and Felice’s ‘betrothal’ is that Felice spends a month at court each summer and as the years have passed the amount of chaperoning has diminished. Their parents believe this is because their marriage is as good as a sealed deal at this point.

In reality, they couldn’t be less interested in each other romantically, but Felice is Wilhelm’s closest friend and maintaining the fiction means their parents are not constantly trying to matchmake them to other eligible heirs and heiresses in the neighbouring kingdoms.

But the point is Felice and her mother are both ladies so they don’t need male servants. Their coachmen are staying in town, their handmaids stay with them in their quarters, and then there’s just Simon.

Wilhelm doesn’t know where he sleeps, or what he does all day. Right now he’s sitting on the cliff that the castle is built upon, staring out at the ocean. His clothes are informal, but clean - black breeches and white shirt left open at the neck revealing a deep V of smooth brown skin that catches the sunlight like -

Not that Wilhelm is looking at his neck.

But he’s not dressed in livery, he’s not wearing a stableboy’s cap - which is fortunate because his curls deserve to be gently caressed by the wind - and he doesn’t seem to have any purpose.

When Wilhelm asked Felice, she just said ‘he’s Sara’s brother?’ like that was the whole story. And maybe for Felice it is since she’d clearly deny Sara nothing but it doesn’t give Wilhelm any answers. Wilhelm can’t speak to Sara alone because protocol demands a young lady have a chaperone when interacting with a bachelor. And normally he’d be safe to just ask Simon except. Well.

“Good morning,” Wilhelm says, to announce his presence and because it means Simon turns his head and smiles.

Wilhelm hoards those smiles like the ladies collecting cowrie shells to thread into jewellery.

“hm-mm,” Simon replies.

In the month that Simon has been living in the castle, Wilhelm has heard him hum, whistle, sigh, and clap. He’s not deaf - in spite of how Vincent and the other high ranking staff treat him - and he certainly understands their language but words seem somehow to be beyond him.

Not that Simon has any trouble making himself understood when he wants to. When one of their footmen got sick and Simon was drafted in to serve at dinner he somehow contrived to position himself behind Henry, opposite Wilhelm, and Wilhelm was distracted the whole meal watching his face. The tiny eyebrow raise when Henry’s father said taxes were really harder on the noble class, the eye roll when Walter said the problem wasn’t a shortage of fish, it was that the sharks were taking more than their fair share.

When Simon had mouthed ‘blah blah blah’ over August’s impassioned speech on the importance of noble blood to intelligence and clear heads in matters of business, Wilhelm had had to excuse himself, dragging Simon with him into the hallways to break down laughing out of earshot of the crowd.

Simon raises an amused eyebrow and kicks Wilhelm’s ankle as he takes a seat on the cliff beside him. “Mm-hmm?”

When he wants to, he certainly doesn’t have any problems making himself understood.

Wille groans because two can play at that game. “Oh Wilhelm, you’ve got the tailor coming at two, then the shoemaker right after and you have your elocution lesson at four then we think you should take a stroll about the gardens with Miss Enchrona before tea.”

Simon [laughs], with a bemused expression like the concepts of shoes, trousers and strolls are just as beyond him as lessons in elocution. “Hm-mmm.”

It sounds like a warning and he’s probably right that Wilhelm’s going to get in trouble - again - but really, really, how many pairs of boots does one person need? Simon’s feet are bare, toes wiggling as he swings them against the cliff like it’s all some kind of novelty.

“Do you ever want to just get on a boat?” Wilhelm asks. “And sail off into the horizon, leave all this behind?”

Simon’s face turns to the waves, his smile fading. The wind blows his curls back, the sun shines down on his face. His mouth opens like for a moment he’s forgotten and he’s about to burst into song. Like he would, in some other life.

God, Wilhelm wants to hear him sing.

“[Sigh].” He shakes his head, but after a moment gives a single [knock] against the rocks.

Once for yes. Twice for no. It’s the only code Felice has explained to him. Simon doesn’t write, can’t even seem to read. He points, he rolls his eyes, but the ten thousand questions that leap to the front of Wilhelm’s mind: then why don’t you? What’s keeping you here? Who are you? don’t have easy yes/no answers.

Simon taps Wilhelm’s knee - three times, no secret message there - and points out to sea. “Mm?”

Why doesn’t he? Because his mother would have a heart attack at the thought? “The sea is for merchants and sailors,” he recites. “Princes remain on land, study diplomacy and form strong relationships with their neighbours to strengthen their kingdoms for years to come. If anything were to happen to Erik you would be the future of this kingdom and it is important that you act like it.”

Which doesn’t include running away from a tailor to watch the ships on the horizon. And definitely doesn’t include resting his hand on the rock edge an inch away from Simon’s and wishing he had the courage to bridge that gap. To see if Simon’s skin is as soft as it looks, to see if Simon would let him touch, maybe even interlock their fingers, maybe even…

“[Thbpt],” Simon says, startling Wilhelm into a laugh and breaking him out of impossible dreams.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling his hand back into his lap and focusing his gaze firmer on the horizon. “Basically: [thbpt]. Sometimes it feels like I only exist in case something happens to Erik. Like, I’m the back-up prince and I’m just… waiting… for something terrible to happen to him because otherwise what’s the point of me? And then I hate thinking like that because obviously I don’t want anything to happen, I don’t know what I would do if he…”

“[Mmm]” Simon says, and he touches a hand to Wilhelm’s shoulder. It’s wildly inappropriate, no servant would dare to lay a hand on a prince in such an informal manner, and Wilhelm doesn’t care. Wilhelm leans into it until it turns into Simon’s arm around his shoulders while Simon hums in his ear.

Wilhelm closes his eyes, lets the sound blend into the crash of waves on the rocks below. “He does all these stupid things,” he finds himself saying. “Racing his chariot too fast on the cliff roads, going out into town dressed like a commoner to drink with strangers. And then he’ll clap me on the back after and laugh and say, ‘lucky you’re there to back me up,’ and I’m like… I wish I wasn’t. If it meant you had to take more care of yourself, if it meant you stopped taking stupid risks, I wish…”

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Turns his head into Simon’s shoulder instead, breathes him in. Simon always smells like he’s just come out of the water, salt and sea foam.

In the hallway after Wilhelm had run out on dinner, once his heartbeat had finished racing and he was sitting against the wall on the polished marble floor, Simon tapped his knee for attention, so close they were almost nose to nose.

His expression was serious, his eyes a request that Wilhelm didn’t need a single word to understand.

Don’t be like the rest of them.

Wilhelm had almost kissed him then.

Simon’s fingers card through his hair and he hums along to the crashing of the waves below them.

*

The moon is full, casting enough light to see almost clearly as Wilhelm picks his way down the coastal path. He hadn’t been sure of what he’d seen when he was standing on his balcony, unable to sleep knowing Erik still wasn’t home, but from the top of the cliff he can make out the beach cove bathed in silver, the two figures on the sand, small but distinctive.

Sara is sitting on a rock well back from the water, her skirts arranged carefully around her legs to ensure there’s no risk of them being touched by the water. In contrast, Simon has kicked off his shoes and rolled up his trousers and is standing on the edge of the waves, stepping down as they wash out, then darting back up the sand as they roll back in, as though daring the water to wash over his feet.

Wilhelm should walk down and introduce himself, he knows, and he’s planning to except Sara says, “Were you with the prince again today?” and he freezes, hidden in the shadows of the rocky cliffs.

Simon takes three quick steps up the sand as the waves wash away his footprints. He shrugs, [clap], turns and looks at her. “[Whistle, click-click]”

“Yes, with Felice.”

Had Simon spoken? The waves and the wind are muffling the sound a little, but he can hear Sara. He edges closer, careful not to kick any of the rocks as he moves down the path.

“[Ch-ch-ch whistle]”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think…” Sara shakes her head. “I’ve got another week. Watch out!”

Simon glances down, then jumps forward three more quick steps as the waves brush higher up the sand to where his feet were a second ago. “[oohm! Hmm-mm]” He spins, kicking a spray of sand at the waves. “[Whistle tch-tch-ch]” He walks closer to her, onto the dry sand further up the beach. Sara turns to look at him as he holds out a hand and points towards the ocean. “[Click-click-click]”

So much for Felice’s claim that Simon had no code. Whatever he’s saying - and he’s clearly saying something somehow - Sara understands it, shaking her head in response. “I’m not going back, Simon. I know you miss life underwater, but I don’t. I like living on land, I like having legs, I like dancing.” Sara lets him take her hand, stands up and spins, skirts and sand flying. “And if I don’t find love, I can live with my sacrifice.”

“[heh. Hmm]” Simon says. Sara releases his hand, giving him a gentle shove instead. He goes willingly, a few steps back then sinking down onto the sand, staring up at the sky.

Wilhelm eases back a little further behind his rock, just in case Simon glances towards the cliff, his heart racing. He and Erik used to have a nanny, when they were younger, an old local lady who would tell stories about selkies taking off their skin to come ashore. About mermaids, trading their natural gifts to the devil for the ability to walk on land and find love with a human.

“I don’t even know if I could ride a landhorse,” Sara is saying, like it’s normal. Like mermaids just walk up on land every day. “They’re different to horses. You have to use your legs. I mean would it be nice if Rousseau liked me? Sure, of course. But I knew what I was giving up.”

“[Thbpt,]” Simon says.

Sara kicks sand at him. “I’m going to wait until the end of the week,” she says. “And then I’m going to kiss Felice. And either I’ll ride again or I won’t, but I’m staying human.” She sinks down beside him, carefully folding her dress under her to avoid creasing it in the sand. “But you don’t have to stay, Simon. I know you came up here to look after me.”

“[tuneless humming].”

“Right, yes, you came for the music except you can’t sing or talk to anyone or even hold a tune so what was the point, huh? What have you learned?”

Simon kicks a foot against the sand. “[Thbpt].”

He was a singer. No wonder he always looks like he’s about to break into song. All those times Wilhelm caught himself wishing he could hear Simon sing and it turns out that wasn’t just his overactive imagination. Simon must have been wishing the exact same thing.

Sara sighs and nudges Simon’s leg with her foot. “I’m sorry. I’m just… if you hypothetically traded your tail away so that you could follow me onto land to make sure I was alright, this is me telling you: I’m alright. I’m fine. And I love you, and I’ll miss you, but you can’t throw your whole life away for me.” She gestures towards the ocean. “If you go back in, you’ll get your tail back, you can go home. You could even get your voice back, if you kiss Marcus -”

“Hah?.”

Sara’s voice softens. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it? You need love to end the deal and get your voice back. Real, romantic love. And you don’t have it up here.”

Wilhelm’s stomach churns. Of course Simon is in love with someone else. Of course he’s got someone else, deep under the ocean where he belongs and Wilhelm doesn’t.

Do you ever want to sail away? Wilhelm had asked and Simon said yes. Of course he did.

Simon sits up next to her and says something, in whatever code it is that Wilhelm can’t understand. “[Whistles and clicks]”

Sara reaches for his hand. “You hardly even know Wilhelm, Simon. I’ve been watching Felice since the shipwreck and I’m still not sure that kissing her will be enough.

“You don’t want to stay up here anyway. Trapped in this little kingdom, needing to make money and get papers to go anywhere. What happened to my brother who was going to visit all the coral reefs? Who wanted to hear his songs echo off the icebergs?”

“[ugh],” Simon says, falling back onto the sand.

Felice clearly adores Sara but if Sara doesn’t love her back, that might not be enough. This stranger, this Marcus, Simon loves him. And maybe he’s started feeling something for Wilhelm but if he’s not fully in love then he’ll be trapped on land with no voice and no way out.

Wilhelm knows how that feels.

One thing is clear. Simon needs to go home, and Wilhelm needs to stop holding him back.

*

Felice tells him where to look. There’s an old music room in the East Wing, hardly used since Wilhelm’s grandmother died ten years ago, and Simon disappears off there whenever he has a moment to himself.

“Your parents won’t be happy with him,” she warns. “A commoner and no chance of children? If you want to make it work with him, you’re going to be fighting every step of the way.”

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow at her, pointed. “And you and Sara are…?”

She swats him on the arm, but then holds on, her expression serious. “I know,” she says. “That’s why I’m warning you, because I’ve been thinking about it. I want to offer her more than a life trapped in all of these endless politics, you know?”

He does. And he doesn’t want to think about what that’ll mean for him - once he can no longer pretend that he’s going to marry Felice one day, his parents will start hunting for other eligible young ladies and parading them in front of him.

But Sara is choosing to give up everything to be with Felice, and Wilhelm can be happy for them even as he dreads what it means for his own future so he pulls Felice into a hug and kisses her cheek. “You’ll figure something out,” he says.

She sighs and squeezes him gently back. “You too, okay?”

He closes his eyes, keeps holding so she can’t see his face. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

*

The piano is audible the moment Wilhelm reaches the East Wing. The door to the music room is propped open, he takes a moment in the doorway to watch. Simon is sitting at the grand piano, the only thing in the room not hidden by white dust sheets. He’s picking out notes slowly, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he fumbles between notes. There’s sheet music on the stand, but he’s not looking at it.

There’s a small furrow of a frown between his eyebrows as he messes up again. Wilhelm wants to go over there and kiss it, sit down next to him, show him where to put his fingers, teach him the names of all the notes.

He wants to so badly his chest aches with it.

He stays in the doorway. “Hey.”

Simon lifts his head, frown wiping away and face widening into an easy smile. If he’s worried about his future or kisses or returning to the ocean, it doesn’t show on his face as he says, “hmm,” and shifts up on the piano stool to make space.

Princes don’t share seats with commoners. Wilhelm can’t risk his convictions crumbling at the feeling of Simon pressed up against his side. He forces himself to laugh, like the idea is ridiculous. “[laughs] I didn’t know you came in here,” he lies, scanning the walls for any excuse that could have brought him to this virtually deserted wing of the castle. “They asked me to fetch down some sheet music. For the ball tonight.”

It’s flimsy. Princes don’t get sent on menial errands for the same reason they don’t share piano stools with beautiful mermaids. But Simon doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t make any sound at all as Wilhelm walks across to the bookshelves and pretends to scan the stacks of yellowed papers.

[🎵?].

Wilhelm glances back, unable to help himself. Simon hasn’t moved from the piano, but his head is tilted curiously to one side, one hand resting on the keys.

“It’s in honour of Lady Felice,” Wilhelm says, as though that’s what Simon was asking. “It’s really wonderful to have her here for so long this year.” Maybe he shouldn’t be bringing Felice into this, but he hasn’t got any other ideas.

You hardly even know Wilhelm, Sara had said, like something about Wilhelm is holding Simon back. Like maybe Simon thinks he could feel something for Wilhelm instead of whatever certainty he has with Marcus.

But there’s no future here.

Simon is still smiling, faintly puzzled but apparently just happy to have Wilhelm here. He plays, [🎵?] and Wilhelm has to pull out every inch of his publicity training to keep his face pleasantly neutral.

“I was just speaking with her about the engagement party,” he lies. “We’re thinking about moving it up, so that we can get married sooner. You know, stop delaying and settle down.”

Simon’s smile falls. Wilhelm turns back to the sheet music, like he hadn’t noticed. Like Simon is beneath his notice. Like he can’t keep the lie off his face if Simon is looking at him like that.

[🎶🎵?!?], Simon plays.

“I was thinking I should do something, to show her how I feel,” Wilhelm continues, pushing through the guilt and the ache in his chest. This is better. Simon has to leave. He has to get his voice back and his tail back and see the world and for that he has to leave Wilhelm behind. “Do you know any good songs for that? Could you teach me something?”

[🎵!!]

Wilhelm flinches. Tries to cover it by reaching for one of the music books.

[🎵!!🎵!!🎵!! HMM!]

Wilhelm takes a deep breath, pulls his face under control, blinks back the stinging in his eyes. He picks a book at random, turns and pastes on a smile, leaning against the shelves. “How about this one? I want her to know that I’m ready for us to settle down. Take on more royal responsibilities. Focus on being here, in this kingdom, instead of looking for something more.”

He can’t look at Simon’s face, focuses on a point slightly above it on the far wall, but Simon’s eyes stand out anyway, dark and accusing.

“I want her to know that I love her,” Wilhelm forces out. “More than anything.”

[🎵!!!!]

Wilhelm jumps, his eyes dropping the last inch to see Simon staring at him. His lip curls, his eyes are angry like storm clouds out at sea. He slams his hands onto the keys again [🎵!!🎵!!🎵!!] and Wilhelm was supposed to keep talking but it’s all he can do to stay upright, to push everything down.

Simon stares at him a moment longer, then shakes his head. [Thump,🎵!! Slam, tch!]

“Simon,” slips out before Wilhelm can stop it.

But it’s too late, Simon turns on his heel and [Footsteps, door slams.]

Wilhelm drops the stack of sheet music to the floor and lets his head [thunk] back against the wall. He’s shaking, his fingers keep twitching and his legs don’t seem to work, which is lucky because if they did he doesn’t know if he could stop them chasing Simon down.

He breathes. Deep breaths - in, out, in - until his body feels like it’s his again. He gathers up the papers, closes the lid of the piano and steps out into the empty hallway.

He doesn’t follow Simon. He has that much restraint. But he does break into a jog to get back to his own quarters and out onto the balcony in time to see Simon storming out of the castle doors.

Sara is sitting on a bench in the garden, darning something, and she looks up as Simon storms over to her.

Wilhelm leans further over the balcony, straining to hear. “[hmmrgh!!]”

Sara startles at the shouting. “Simon?”

“[click-ch-crkk-click- ugh!]”

“I’m not following,” Sara says. “Slow down, Simon.”

Simon lets out an “[ughh]” of frustration and grabs her arm, pointing from her to himself then off to the horizon. “[Ughhh!]”

“I’m not leaving,” Sara shouts back. “I told you. I don’t care about love or adventure or even riding, I want to be here.”

“Hmm. Hmhm!” Simon pushes past her, ignores the path down to the beach in favour of running to the cliff edge. Wilhelm steps forward on instinct, like he could grab Simon back, like Simon isn’t already impossibly far out of reach.

And Simon leaps. His body curves, like a dolphin breaching the waves. He spins in the air, the sunlight catching one last time through his curls, and then he straightens into a dive, arms outstretched.

The moment his hands touch the waves, there’s a flash down his spine like sunlight running across his skin, catching on shimmering scales, spreading down his back. The rough cotton trousers he was wearing tear apart and fall away to reveal a tail, long and sinuous, shimmering in blues and greens in the sunlight. For a moment it seems like it’ll just keep getting longer, falling and falling, then it stretches into a multi-layered fin in a thousand shades of aquamarine that blends with the colour of the waves, then slips beneath them.

And he’s gone.

Sara stares after him for a long moment, her back to Wilhelm so he can’t read her expression, and then she turns. Wilhelm isn’t thinking, forgets to duck back inside, and suddenly she’s looking directly at him.

Like she knows.

*

Wilhelm hides, retreating to Erik’s apartments where even if Sara or Felice thought to look, they wouldn’t risk a confrontation with the Crown Prince. Erik’s rooms are warmer than Wilhelm’s, they don’t face the ocean so there’s no sea breeze constantly cutting through his clothes. Even the sound of the waves is distant, muted, they could be a thousand miles away. Wilhelm paces tracks in the carpet, picks up books and tosses them aside after a handful of pages, unable to give anything his attention.

Simon is gone. Simon is gone, and he keeps telling himself that it’s for the best but then Simon’s eyes loom in the back of his mind, red and haunted and betrayed. Like Wilhelm did something wrong.

Erik arrives with the sunset, shrugs his dinner jacket onto a hanger and leans over Wilhelm’s shoulder to follow his gaze out of the window at the golden light across the forests and the fields. “You missed dinner,” Erik says.

He’d lost track of time. Or he’d been trying desperately to lose track of time that refused to let him slip away, watching the sky and wondering what a sunset looks like from underwater. “Simon left.”

He hadn’t meant to say anything. But it’s the only thing in his head, the only words he can catch hold of. Like Simon has snuck inside him and taken all of Wilhelm’s words with him on the way out.

“Oh,” Erik says, soft, like this means more to him than ‘some meaningless servant has quit’ which is wrong because there’s no way Erik could have known.

But Erik is nudging against him, squeezing into the window seat alongside so he can wrap an arm around Wilhelm and pull him into a hug and Wilhelm is shaking, actually shaking even though he’s fine, he’s fine, this is better, this has to be better.

He’s crying. Somehow. Struggling to breathe. Saltwater stinging his eyes. Erik holds him through it, as the sky goes from sunkissed to dark, the stars finding their way out in a scattering across the sky.

Is Simon looking up at the sky? Is he remembering the nights in the garden where they lay on the grass and Wilhelm talked through all the constellations he could remember, then made up a handful more just so he could keep talking, keep Simon out there a little longer.

Or is he down in the depths of the ocean, where the pressure would crush a human and the light can’t penetrate the hundreds of metres of water pressing down on top of him. How does it feel, having all that water resting on your back? Does it feel anything like the weight of a crown on your brow, a heavy fur lined cloak on your shoulders.

“Did you love him?” Erik asks.

Their mother would say it’s not possible to love someone without having a conversation with them, that love is irrelevant anyway, less important than diplomacy and inter-country negotiations. That Wilhelm is too young to know what he wants, anyway.

“Yes,” Wilhelm says.

Their mother would roll her eyes, shake her head. Erik passes Wilhelm a scrap of fabric to wipe his face and says, “Why don’t you go after him?”

Wilhelm pictures Simon’s body, straight as an arrow hitting the ocean. The length of his tail flicking in the air, the scales creeping across his lower back. “He’s got someone else.”

Erik snorts, actually snorts out loud and Wilhelm twists off the window seat to get a better look at his face because what the hell is that about? Erik looks just as confused as Wilhelm feels. “Wille, that boy could not have been more obviously in love with you.”

What? No. “What?”

Erik is shaking his head in disbelief. “His eyes found you every time you stepped into a room. He’d light up the moment he found you. When you both ran out of dinner, Mama asked me to talk to you about appropriate conduct while betrothed because we all assumed you’d snuck off to make out.”

Wilhelm’s entire understanding of the world is being gently shattered. “You didn’t say anything to me.”

“Well, no. Because anyone with eyes can see through your unsubtle fake-betrothal with Felice and I support you sneaking off to make out with whoever you want to.” He smiles, turning on the seat to face Wilhelm fully. “Wille, this doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“Of course it does. I’m a prince, I have responsibilities. I have to be your back-up if you -” he chokes off.

Erik reaches out to catch his hand, the heavy royal signet on his index finger catching the light. “I am crown prince,” he says. “And your older brother. You let me worry about the responsibilities. I don’t need you wasting your life sitting in reserve.”

“But you’re always taking risks, and the kingdom needs an heir.”

Erik’s eyes widen a little. “And you think…” He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “That’s not your responsibility Wilhelm, it’s mine. I’m getting married in a few months, I’m sure we can manage an heir,” he pulls up a smile and a wink from somewhere. “And I’ll be a good, sensible prince as long as you’re gone. I promise.”

“Erik -”

“Nope,” Erik interrupts. “No more excuses. You’re not giving up your chance of happiness for me. Go find him, bring him back for my wedding.”

Wilhelm swallows down the lump that comes to his throat. “He’s gone far away,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s the kind of place you come back from.”

Erik pulls him into a hug. Wilhelm wraps his arms tight around his brother’s shoulders, like he could pull some essence of Erik inside himself to keep. “Then go,” Erik says. “Get out of this castle. See the world.”

Wilhelm closes his eyes and holds on.

*

Finding Sara is no easy feat, considering how much of the afternoon he spent avoiding her, but eventually he stumbles across her sitting outside the stables in the ring of light from a hanging lantern. Wilhelm wipes his face fiercely with the back of one hand, drawing himself up and taking a deep breath. “I need to speak with you.”

She lifts her head from her work - embroidering jodhpurs it looks like, although why she’s doing it outside the stable instead of inside or in the castle where it’s warm is anyone’s guess. “About what, your highness?” she says, her voice almost too neutral like she’s fishing to see what he knows.

Or what he saw.

Wilhelm doesn’t have time for games. “Did Simon like me back?” he says. “Does he? If I kissed him, would that break his curse?”

Her eyes widen, she rises, glancing backwards over her shoulder to check that they’re alone. “What do you know?”

It still feels wild, impossible, he can hardly say it out loud but he can’t deny it either. “He’s a mermaid. You both are. You made a deal, giving something up to come on land and you need to find love to get it back. I heard you both, on the beach, you need to fall in love with someone. Simon wasn’t in love with me, not enough.”

She’s already shaking her head. “We need someone to fall in love with us,” she says.

What? Wilhelm can’t process that, can’t think. “No, you said you weren’t sure if it would work with Felice. You don’t know if you love her.”

“Of course I love her. But she doesn’t… she’s betrothed to you, Simon said you’re getting married.”

Oh god. Oh god He’s fucked so many things up. “You said Simon could kiss someone else. Another mermaid.”

“Marcus. They dated once, but Simon never felt it as much as he did. I thought there was a chance that Marcus would still love him enough.” She shakes her head, pacing across the circle of light. “I thought he’d be trapped up here if he kissed you. No tail, no voice, stuck as a prince’s consort.”

Wilhelm’s heart skips a beat. “He wanted to kiss me?”

“I don’t know. He talked about it, I think.” She lets out a low growl of frustration. “Dolphins don’t have a lot of words for this kind of thing.”

Oh. Suddenly the clicks and whistles make a lot more sense. “If I loved him, and I kissed him, would he get his voice back?”

“Maybe? Probably? It doesn’t matter, he’ll be twenty miles away by now. The trade only works once, he can’t leave the ocean again.”

What did the storybooks say? Treat with the devil at a crossroads at midnight? Wilhelm glances up at the sky. It’s late, but he’s got time. If he runs. “You should talk to Felice,” he says.

She takes half a step after him, then realises he’s not heading for the castle. “Where are you going?”

The decision is easy, like he’s already made it. “I’m going to find Simon.”

*

The crossroads between the castle, the beach, and the nearest town is silent at midnight. The shop on the corner is shuttered and dark, the roads are empty. Even the ocean which normally is ever present in Wilhelm’s life seems to have gone still in anticipation.

There is no one there.

And then a figure steps forward, as though walking through a doorway in thin air, brushing invisible dust off a dark fitted coat, dark hair swept back over a pale forehead and a familiar face.

“August?” Wilhelm glances over his shoulder, out of habit, like Vincent and Nils are going to leap out of the bushes and announce this was all some kind of prank again.

August smiles. There’s something inhuman about it, the way the smile crawls across his skin, the way the moonlight seems to die rather than reflecting in his eyes. “What is the devil, but the embodiment of everything you despise?” He spins on the spot, a flash of fire and a forked tail seeming to catch the light. Then he’s stopped and he’s August again, head cocked to one side, watching Wilhelm like a shark in the water. “And look at you, prince of the realm out on his own, no protection.”

Wilhelm keeps both feet planted on the ground. “I’m here to make a deal.”

August’s smile widens. “And what have you brought to offer me in trade?”

He’d spent the afternoon scouring fairytales but there was nothing specific. It was all ‘a part of yourself’ and ‘something that defines how others see you.’ Wilhelm used to ride, once, but it was nothing like Sara’s look of yearning when she walked past the stables. He couldn’t think of anything he’d ever done that made him feel like Simon looked when he tried to sing.

“I want to become a mermaid,” he says, as clearly as years of elocution lessons allow. “In return I’ll give up any claim to the throne and the crown.”

“Heh heh. You’ll give up your crown, will you? Your crown which you’ve spent years desperately trying to escape from?” There’s a flash of a tail again and a [crack] like a whip.

Wilhelm focuses on Simon - on Simon’s smile, Simon’s laugh, the betrayed look in his eyes when he turned and ran out of the music room - and doesn’t move.

“Here’s the thing though,” August continues, stepping in so close that Wilhelm can smell the expensive cologne mixing with fire and brimstone. “Here’s the thing, if you step out of the line of succession, guess who could step in. And I think that would hit harder, would hurt more.” His arm brushes Wilhelm’s hand, and Wilhelm has to fight not to flinch at the searing heat coming off it.

There are other cousins, better cousins, closer cousins. But this is magic, after all. “Fine. I’ll leave, you can take it.”

“[tut tut tut] Ah, but you could come back. Drag yourself out of the ocean, reclaim your human form. No, it’s not enough to just step aside and graciously give up the crown. I was thinking something a little more permanent.” There’s a flash and suddenly he’s right in front of Wilhelm, holding out a hand. The hand is August’s, it’s wearing August’s shining silver watch on August’s wrist, but also its nails have extended into curved black talons and the veins are black where they show through the skin. “Your inheritance comes from your blood, from your family, so that’s what you can give me. You get your tail and your freedom, they forget you ever existed. They never had a son, never had a back-up, never had a brother.” He smiles, wider than any human mouth should be able to. “And yours truly takes your place. Your brother already thinks of me as family. Prince August has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? And all those things you took for granted, you didn’t appreciate, will be mine.

“Usual caveats. You have one season to change your mind. Come out of the water before the time’s up and you’re human again, no repeats, no refunds.”

So he wouldn’t get his family back just by coming out of the water, that matches with what he learned from Sara. “If I find love,” Wilhelm says. “That ends it.”

August’s expression sours. “Someone’s been reading a few too many fairytales. But yes. If you convince someone to fall in love with you, kiss them and our deal breaks. Kiss a mermaid, you stay a mermaid. Kiss a human, you stay a human. Kiss someone who isn’t in love with you, wham bam time’s up you’re stuck with no family and no second chances.” His tongue flicks out to lick his lips, the tip of it forked like a snake. “Do we have a deal?”

Felice loves him as a friend. Erik loves him as family. And there’s no one else, not even close to anyone else, so if Simon doesn’t love him back then that’s it. Erik will forget he even had a brother and Wilhelm will be trapped in the ocean, alone, forgotten.

Wilhelm’s throat is almost too dry to speak, the air around them burns like an oven as August flexes his fingers. He focuses on Simon, back underwater with no voice and no music. On the oceans, stretching out for thousands of miles. On the places they could go.

He takes August’s hand. The talons curve around into his wrist, cutting into the skin to drip blood, black in the moonlight, onto the sand at their feet. "Yes.”

A stab of pain like plunging his arm into a bonfire surges up into his chest, hits his heart like a sledgehammer. His legs buckle and he falls to his knees, August’s nails not releasing his arm.

“You should know,” August says, sneering down at him. “Mermaids are notorious for their distrust of strangers. And if you think you can come back and kiss Felice, well, I saw her getting very close to one of her servants and I don’t think you’re her type.” August smiles wide as the pain hits Wilhelm’s chest like a knife to the gut, making him gasp. “I’m going to enjoy wearing your crown.”

The last thing Wilhelm sees, as the pain reaches up to wrap around his throat, is August’s smile looming down over him.

*

Wilhelm wakes up tossed on the waves. Instincts have him struggling up to the surface, clawing his hands to pull himself through the water, but he can’t catch his breath. His back knocks against the sand, the waves throw him forwards, upwards. He can’t breathe. His hands claw at the ground, trying to anchor himself, but the next wave knocks him head over heels back up the beach.

The sand is rough against his skin, like knives dragging against his arms and his chest and his le-

He tries to move his legs. They thrash as one and he struggles around to see the tail - his tail - stretched out across the dry sand. The moonlight catches on a few scales, dark red like the state robes of coronation, offset in hues of orange and gold.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he can’t move, trying to push himself with his stomach muscles, his tail an unwieldy dead weight that stings all over as it drags along the sand. It’s so dry, his throat is rough and he’s gasping and flopping like a landed catch in a fisherman’s bucket.

No one warned him about this. No one said you can trade everything, give up everything, and still die alone on a beach because the ocean is too far away and your body has been replaced by muscles you don’t know how to use.

Then there’s a hand on his shoulders, a gentle voice. “Stay still, lie flat.”

He stills, on instinct, and then he’s being rolled like a pencil, over and over until he hits the blessed cool of the water against his skin. The hands pull away but he keeps going with the momentum until he’s deep enough to get his head all the way under and take a deep saltwater breath.

No oxygen has ever tasted better.

Wilhelm lifts a hand to the side of his neck, feeling the flaring of gills running down to the top of his shoulder as he breathes.

Then he looks up. Sara is watching him from the sand, her skirts hiked up and her feet bare. He jolts, remembering at the last second not to launch himself back out of the water, just to lift his head up enough to speak. “Watch out, you’re gonna -”

Sara rolls her eyes and steps deliberately forward, the wave spilling up over her foot, saltwater brushing across her toes and up around her ankle.

Her skin doesn’t disappear beneath scales, her feet don’t become flippers. She wiggles her toes, pointedly. “Felice and I talked.”

Oh. Oh. Wilhelm edges back a half metre to get more of his scales under the water, dips his head to take a breath, and when he comes up Sara is sitting on a rock, her feet dangling in the shadows. “You broke the curse.” His voice feels strange, like it’s passing through bubbles.

She nods. “I told Felice I was coming down here to make sure you got off alright. She didn’t know who I was talking about.”

Wilhelm’s heart gives a painful lurch, but he can’t change it. The deal is done. “I have to find Simon.”

“He should be heading for Bjarstad,” she says. “You want to head south, keep the warm drift on your left and start diving when you reach the kelp forests.”

Wilhelm stares at her blankly. “I don’t…” he flaps his tail, accidentally propelling himself into a somersault and getting a mouthful of bubbles that choke him for his trouble. “How do I do that?”

Sara gives a long sigh. “Okay. New plan.” She ducks her head under the water, two fingers in her mouth and gives three sharp [noises]. Then she surfaces, spitting out salt water and pushing her damp hair back with a wide smile. “I missed that.”

Wilhelm ducks his head to take a breath to ask what that was for, but he’s barely put his head under water when he sees movement, something large speeding towards him in a spray of bubbles.

It’s a seahorse. It’s a seahorse the size of a pony. It surfaces next to him with something like a [bubble whinny], nudging at the sandbank towards Sara. She hikes her skirts up higher, tucking them into her belt so she can wade deep enough to run a hand across the seahorse’s nose. “I know,” she murmurs. “I missed you too.”

“[Snort].”

Sara laughs, soft and a little sad. “I live up here now. You need to go home, find yourself a new rider.” Her fingers scratch at the edge of the seahorse’s crown fin, dislodging algae and tiny limpets into the water. “I just need one last favour from you. My brother’s about to do something very stupid.” She reaches for Wilhelm’s hand, tugging him forward and placing his hand on the seahorse’s nose. “This is Wilhelm. He knows how to ride a landhorse, for whatever that’s worth. Could you take him to Simon?”

The seahorse snuffs its snout at Wilhelm’s hand, then dives underwater to do a loop around his tail, its lower fins brushing against Wilhelm’s scales in a way that makes him jump. Then it surfaces with a [snoot].

Sara smiles. “Wilhelm, this is [name].” She takes both his hands, showing him where coral has grown onto the seahorse’s body either side of its neck creating handholds. “Hold your body as straight as possible to avoid drag. Normally you’d use your tailfin as a rudder, but your job today is just to hang on and let [name] drive. She knows where she’s going.”

Because clinging onto a seahorse travelling at speed miles down into the depths of the ocean isn’t terrifying at all. Wilhelm tries to swallow and shudders when it makes his gills flare extra wide around his neck.

Simon. He’s doing this for Simon.

Sara claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Wilhelm opens his mouth to reply, but she nudges the seahorse and any response he had is lost to the water slamming into his throat as it takes off faster than any carriage back down into the depths.

*

He’s expecting Bjarstad to be some kind of city, but there are no recognisable landmarks when the seahorse finally slows. They passed the kelp forest, a crowd of jellyfish that blubbed lazily around them, and a curious shark who swam up to get a look but left again when Wilhelm’s seahorse snorted a warning at it.

The area they stop is deep enough that the light is dim, but Wilhelm can still see. His eyesight is better, he thinks, than when he was a human. He can see further, the water is clear as air with no blue tinge. There are rocks on the sea floor, a scattering of small colourful fish.

And in the distance, on his own, a single figure with his back to them, dark curly hair, soft brown skin fading into green-blue scales. There’s a fin running down Simon’s spine. Wilhelm reaches back instinctively and finds one on his own back.

It tickles when his fingers graze it and he jerks his hand away.

No wonder Simon never liked wearing shirts.

The seahorse nudges Wilhelm’s hand - presumably code for get on with it - and then while Wilhelm is trying to figure out how to get his tail behind him, she abandons him to rush over to Simon.

“[laugh, name, hmm hmm?]”

Simon turns and Wilhelm fidgets to get at least upright as Simon’s eyes fall on him.

There are fins running up his forearms. His gills run across the sides of his neck down to his collar. His chest looks almost human except that his belly button is gone, replaced by smooth skin running down into a V of shimmering blue-green scales and his tail. His tail, that flicks expertly out behind him, propelling him towards Wilhelm easy as thought. “[Hmhmm?]” Simon’s making sounds, and all Wilhelm can think is that means Simon hasn’t kissed Marcus yet.

Or that Marcus didn’t love him anymore.

But that can’t be true, because Simon is Simon and how could anyone not want to give up everything for him. “I traded my family and my crown for this tail that I have no clue how to use,” Wilhelm says. His voice works fine underwater, spilling out in relief at finding him, joy of seeing him again. “And now I have a season to win the love of a mermaid.”

Simon’s eyes widen and he lets out a stream of bubbles. “[hmmhmf!!]”

Wilhelm shakes his head, holds out his hand. “I was hoping I might be able to do it a bit quicker than that. Since I’m already in love with you.”

Simon stares at him, then takes Wilhelm’s hand, tugging him in. Wilhelm lets Simon take control, because if he tries to manoeuvre into position they’re going to be here all day, and then suddenly Simon is up close, his tail wrapped around Wilhelm’s to hold him in place, and Simon’s forehead rests against Wilhelm’s.

He taps his hand once on the back of Wilhelm’s neck, tilting his head to make it into a question.

Wilhelm bridges the gap, finds Simon’s lips. It’s not quite how he’d always imagined - the tails, the seawater, and the bubbles are all pretty unexpected - but Simon’s lips are soft and his hands are certain in Wilhelm’s hair and when his lips part his mouth is warm and tastes of coral and sunshine.

A warmth spreads across Wilhelm’s back where the scales start and runs down his tail and somehow it doesn’t feel like an unfamiliar sleeve pulled over his legs, it feels like a part of him. He sways it slightly from side to side and they slip into the current, swept along.

Wilhelm kisses him again. And again. Hardly pausing to take breaths in between, holding on as tightly as he dares.

But he has to know. And he pulls back, putting a hand's breadth of space between them, enough to see that underwater Simon’s hair floats in a halo around his head, that his eyes sparkle with a thousand colours when reflected through deep water.

That his smile is the same, as he cups Wilhelm’s cheek in one hand and brushes the edge of the scales on Wilhelm’s hip with the other. “You’re an idiot,” he says. His voice is warm, beautiful, it fits him perfectly.

Wilhelm can’t wait to hear him sing.