The weight of the coin pouch pressed against her thigh as she moved through the abandoned courtyard, lighter now by half her month's wages. Elise couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not when she imagined his face—those blue eyes widening at the pastries wrapped in linen inside her pack, the medicine vials clinking softly with each step.
She had barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. The way the moonlight caught the jewels in his hair. The way his lips had shaped her name. Elisse. The way his heart had beat beneath her palm, steady and alive and real.
The morning had been a blur of drills and patrols and feigned attention while her princess spoke of trade routes. Elise had nodded at the right moments, laughed when the other knights laughed, and counted every hour until she could slip away.
Her boots found the familiar path through the broken archway. The smell hit her first—wet stone, moss, the mineral tang of the lagoon. Her chest tightened.
She stopped at the edge of the water, the pack heavy on her shoulder, and opened her mouth.
"A-Azureus-?"
She winced. Her voice came out wrong—too sharp, too human, the syllables stumbling over each other. Nothing like the way he had said it. Nothing like that gentle, rolling sound that had made her breath stop.
She tried again, softer. "Azureus?"
The water exploded.
Elise stumbled back as a body surged through the dark surface, moving so fast her hand went for her sword before her mind caught up. A splash sent droplets arcing through the moonlight—and then he surfaced, pushing wet hair from his face, and beamed up at her.
Her sword hand fell.
Her heart stuttered, skipped, and began racing.
He was smiling. His whole face lit with it, those blue eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed. He looked at her like she was the sun.
Her knees hit the stone.
The impact jarred through her—she felt it in her hips, her spine, the scrape of gravel through her trousers—but she barely registered it. She was staring at him. He was staring at her. And then he was moving again, rushing to the edge where she knelt, his webbed fingers gripping the rock as he tilted his head in that way he did, questioning and sweet and so earnest it made her chest ache.
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I'm alright… just…."
Her throat closed. The words died there, tangled in something she couldn't name. Obsessed? In love? Completely and utterly ruined for any other creature in this world or any other?
"Exhausted," she mumbled, and if the word came out rough, well. That was true too.
He blinked at her—those long, water-beaded lashes—and then his hand came up, hovering near her face. He stopped just before touching, his eyes asking permission.
She nodded, barely breathing.
His cool, webbed fingers brushed her cheek. Soft. Tentative. Like she was made of something precious and breakable. He made a small sound—not a word, just a note of concern—and she had to close her eyes for a moment, had to gather herself before she did something foolish like cry.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "I'm fine. I brought you things."
She pulled the pack into her lap, grateful for something to do with her hands. The medicine vials came out first—six of them, dark glass catching the moonlight—and then the wrapped bundle of pastries. She had bought every kind the baker had. Jam-filled. Cream-filled. Dusted with sugar. Glazed with honey. The baker had raised an eyebrow at the quantity, and Elise had smiled and said she was hungry and paid before he could ask questions.
Azureus's eyes went wide when she unwrapped the bundle. He leaned forward, his nose twitching, his tail curling and uncurling behind him in the water.
She laughed. "You like sweets, don't you?"
He looked up at her, then back at the pastries, then back at her. His mouth opened slightly—a question he couldn't ask—and she broke off a piece of jam pastry and held it out to him.
He took it from her fingers with the same delicate care he always used, bringing it to his nose first, sniffing, then taking a small bite. His eyes closed. A sound escaped him—soft, pleased, almost a hum—and he ate the rest in one eager mouthful.
Elise watched him. She couldn't help it. The way his cheeks rounded as he chewed. The way his throat moved as he swallowed. The way he looked at her after, lips sticky with jam, and smiled like she had given him the world.
She fed him another piece. Then another. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, and she let him take his time. She let herself watch.
This was the boy she had touched herself to last night.
The thought landed in her chest like a stone dropped into still water. She swallowed. Her pulse beat thick in her throat.
This was the same boy who had pressed her hand to his heart and whispered his name in a voice that sounded like ancient music. The same boy who looked at her now with jam on his lips and absolute trust in his eyes.
"Azureus," she said, and he looked up at her, still chewing. She pointed at the pastries. "Do you like the sweets?"
He blinked. Followed her finger. Looked at the remaining pastries, then back at her face, and smiled.
"Fuck," she groaned, the word escaping before she could stop it. "You're so adorable."
Her hand flew to her mouth. His head tilted, curious, no recognition in his eyes—just that open, wondering expression that made her want to wrap him in blankets and never let anyone near him.
She lowered her hand. Stared at him. He stared back, still smiling, completely oblivious.
"I literally fucked myself to you last night," she said. The words came out flat, honest, almost surprised. Like she was telling herself as much as him.
He blinked. His smile didn't waver. He had no idea what she had said—but he understood something in her tone, because he reached out and touched her knee, a small, reassuring gesture, and made a soft questioning sound.
She let out a breath that was half laugh, half sob. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"
He just looked at her. Innocent. Beautiful. Waiting.
Her hand moved before she thought about it. Her fingers found his lips—tracing the curve of his upper lip, the fuller lower one, the soft skin that still tasted like jam. He went still beneath her touch, his eyes fixed on hers, his breath warm against her knuckles.
"How are you so beautiful?" she whispered.
His tail moved. A slow, happy wag that sent ripples spreading across the dark water, droplets catching the light, the scales shimmering silver and blue. He didn't understand her words—but he understood. The way her voice softened. The way her fingers lingered. The way she looked at him like she was memorizing every detail.
Her fingers traced higher. His cheekbones. The arch of his brow. The delicate shell of his ear. His lashes—impossibly long, clinging with tiny beads of water—she traced them too, featherlight, and he closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into her hand.
She leaned forward.
Her forehead touched his. Her nose brushed his nose. She could feel his breath on her lips, warm and sweet, could see the faint tremor in his eyelids as he waited.
She kissed him.
It was soft. Softer than she had imagined. His lips were warm, pliant, tasting of strawberries and something faintly salt—the lagoon, the sea, him. He made a small sound against her mouth, surprised and gentle, and then his hand came up, his webbed fingers tangling in the collar of her tunic, holding her there like she might disappear.
She didn't rush. She didn't deepen it. She just let her mouth rest against his, learning the shape of him, the texture, the way his lips parted slightly when she breathed into him. His nose bumped hers. Their teeth almost touched. It was clumsy, hesitant, two people who had never done this before figuring it out together.
It was perfect.
She pulled back, just enough to see his face. His cheeks were flushed a deep, vivid red, spreading down his neck to his collarbones. His lips were pinker, slightly parted, a little wet. His eyes were wide, dazed, fixed on her like she had rewritten the world.
She kissed him again—his forehead, his temple, the bridge of his nose. A quick press of her lips to his closed eyelid. Another to the corner of his mouth. He let out a sound—a breathless, bright little thing she had never heard before.
A giggle.
He giggled.
Elise froze. Her heart stopped and restarted in a new rhythm. He was giggling—his shoulders shaking, his hand still tangled in her tunic, his face buried against her neck as little sounds escaped him, happy and shy and so utterly disarming that she felt something crack open in her chest.
"Azureus," she breathed.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his smile so wide it crinkled his nose, his eyes bright, his lashes wet with actual tears of laughter. He was so beautiful it hurt.
"Elisse," he said.
The sound of her name in his voice—the gentle roll, the slight accent, the way it curved like a question and an answer at the same time—her heart didn't melt. It dissolved. Into powder. Into dust. Into something that would never fit back together the same way.
"Say it again," she whispered. "Please."
He tilted his head, not understanding the words, but understanding the plea in her voice. He reached up, his cold, wet fingers touching her cheek, and said it again, softer this time. "Elisse."
She covered his hand with hers. Pressed it against her skin. Closed her eyes and let herself feel the weight of this moment—the cool water lapping at the stone, the moonlight filtering through the broken arches above, the boy with strawberry-sweet lips and a voice like old music, saying her name like it meant something.
She opened her eyes. He was watching her, his face open and trusting, his tail curled against her calf beneath the surface.
She kissed him again. Slower this time. Deliberate. A promise made in the press of her lips against his, in the way she cradled his jaw, in the soft, shuddering breath she let out when he kissed her back.
When she pulled away, he was still smiling.
And Elise knew, with a certainty that settled deep in her bones, that she would burn this whole kingdom down before she let anyone take him from her.