Chapter Text
Aristotle tried very hard not to yawn as his father’s naval expert explained how to steer the sailboat for the fifth time that morning. He really strained himself to focus only on the man before him instead of the sparkling teal waters. It didn't take long before he had his entire left arm in the water, searching for a fish or even a shell if he was lucky as clouds of white sand enveloped his fingers. He wondered how chaotic this simple gesture was to the creatures below that barrier. How did fish deal with all the shit that got thrown into the ocean on the daily? Maybe that's why fishing was so uneventful, they're all too fed up with humans to even take food from them. Or they were just smart. Ari wasn't sure.
He ignored the man scolding him. It was the usually, ‘How can the prince of a country whose stock is entirely placed in major trade not want to sail’ shitic. He'd gotten sick of it by the time he was fourteen. He was almost eighteen now, he'd be coronated in about two months time but he still refused to learn an iota on how to sail. Mostly because the teacher still couldn't swim.
The same dote who thought he needed to know knots to properly rule a country also had no fucking clue how to swim. Did that stop him from trying to teach the young prince? Hell no. God was it patronizing. “You can do long division better than the guy who teaches it but how are you going to be a King if you can't sail a boat?” How about by keeping the economy his father was still fixing afloat? Or decreasing the straining military budget so, you know, people outside the palace walls could eat? Christ, there hadn't been a war since his father was 21. The man was nearly 55 now! Did wars really concern their land much? Hell, it was his quick thinking that kept his father’s advisors from plunging them into three centuries of debt with the virgining British isles. How could they not see that signing over trade meant bringing down all their country stood for? That it would mean the end of their productivity and the fall of their ports. He was lucky his father listened to him, honestly. Yet did that make any of his father's advisors take him seriously? No.
He groaned as the teacher yelled at him from behind. He bit his lip to keep from screaming at him. Instead he stood up, shaking off drops before stepping over to apologize through gritted teeth. He trudged after the snot nosed advisor but buried his rage as he stared out at the waves. He wanted to just leap in and swim away, all the way to Spain or Portugal. But he knew the minute he touched the water, his muscles would spasm as he tried to swim like he always did. He thought it'd be better to drown than listen to this asshole talk about one more sailboat voyage.
Underneath the water, a bright giggle filled the warm sea as Dante expertly dodged the angry lashing limbs of his companion Daniel. Dante was a bright eyed prince, with his slick grey and brown speckled monk seal tail almost smacking Daniel across his red tinted face, making his brown eyes crinkle in mirth. Daniel’s dull teal Bass tail, lashed after the slightly tanner boy, propelling him backwards. Dante was more than aware that he should be with his tutor, discussing how to revive coral or bring down ships, but he had a better schedule, regardless of what Daniel thought.
“Dante, you're going to get us in trouble!”
The younger merboy only scoffed. “So what? Do you want that idiot to tell you how awful the surface is? I'm sick of him and his old ways. I bet he hasn't even talked to a single land-dweller..”
“I'd hope so, given that it's against the law! Dante, humans aren't something you get obsessed over! Do you want them to eat you?!”
“Humans don't eat seals, seaweed brain.”
“They make coats out of them though!”
“Ugh!,” Dante growled as he propelled himself away from the shimmering scales flickering behind him.
If Daniel was anymore of a killjoy he'd stay inside all day and actually try to find a way to mutate the humans into their own kind. Which was really just depressing to think about. Dante had his fair share of encounters with careless fishermen and their nets but he'd also talked with small children and even wise men who spoke of more truth than any of the elders inside his kingdom did. He couldn't hate his mother for her ban, his father had been murdered by a human fisherman. He missed his Dad, more than anything, but that didn't make humans evil. Not in the slightest.
The merboy began to slow as he felt tremors in the water nearby. He halted, turning to see a ship not more than two meters away from him. It wasn’t moving far, watching it bob and turn towards him. He eased himself to the side, Daniel forgotten as the vibrations slowed before the spiked dramatically. A small shadow made a column on the sea floor underneath his tail. Dante froze, his flared flipper circling behind him as he saw a hand not far away dip into the water. Their fingers were slim and brushed at the sand with deft touch.
What caught Dante was his skin, it was like dark soil that he’d sometimes kick up when the mud ran into the ocean after storms. The fingers pressed into the sand before taking a fist of the grains and letting it slip between fingertips. The water was so clear that the dust cloud spread underneath the vessel and drifted in the current like a fish. Dante swam towards the bobbing boat, ducking behind a tall rock that framed the vessel, formed by the mountains far, far above. He let a smile slip as the fingers made a swirling cone out of the sand puff, wanting to kick a cloud to try and gain the owner of the hand’s attention. He didn't see any hooks but the speed of the boat was worrisome. Why would anyone let their boat crawl through such shallow waters?
That was when the hand jerked up, the water vibrating with the tiny droplets sparkling the surface. Dante felt an urge to swim up to it but that seemed like it would just startle or hurt him. He opted to peak up from the rock, clawing his way quickly with his sharp nails. Instead of being met by the soil skinned person, the first man he saw was old and pale, similar to himself in skin tone. The man was berating someone who he could only see from the mound of his bun. Soft looking, wavy chocolate hair was held upon the dark skinned boy’s skull in a wide, sprawled semi-circle. Dante’d never seen hair that long on anyone but his mother, who barely moved out of grief and let her own grow to remember the last cut Sam had given it.
Dante had to tighten his grip as the boy straightened himself, showing his well built body and towering form. The boy had his arms crossed over his practically bare chest, with a snarl clear on his lips as he righted himself. Dante wonder what those lips looked like when they were pulled into a smile. He leaned on the rock, hugging it against his chest as he listened to the pale man yell at him in Spanish, he assumed, making the dark boy ball his hands into fist and his eyes to narrow. Even without understanding, the anger in the words felt unwarranted. He couldn't help but think of tipping over the small vessel just to fuck with him.
Ari prayed he could find an excuse to strangle the raving imbecile. He just kept going on and on about how Aristotle couldn't be a king if he couldn't even sail. As if he couldn't afford to let a captain take him to other kingdoms. Or take large ships to go to another country. Where you needed a crew of eight to even get out of the harbor. Hell, he was natural captain when his father let him take control of ships. He didn't need sailing skills for anything but pleasantries and his parents were more than aware. Unlike this creton. A man who couldn’t swim and couldn’t focus in a single council meeting honestly thought that Aristotle was below him? He’d be quick to prove that wrong.
“If I can’t sail, does that mean that maybe I should steer a ship instead?” Dante was smiling softly as he heard the sure voice vibrate through the air. It matched him extremely well, making his confidence boldly prominent. “You've given the reigns to me, and did your crew fall to shambles?”
The older man fisted his hands like Daniel would when he let out a grunted “no”. Dante had to hold back a chuckle.
“So, you owe me more respect don't you? You act as if I recently learned how to walk instead of ensuring my father’s work wasn't turned to utter shatters. My mother refuses to even speak to you after what you did to my brother, don't make me tell her you belittled me too.”
Dante had to hold back shivers. This boy was terrifying when he wasn't gorgeous. He liked that. Even more than he liked his sure smirk as the older man stared up at him in utter shock. The dark boy went to the other side of the ship and stepped into the waistline waters, wading ashore as the wrinkled man was left stuttering. Dante watched as he waved to another man, broader but just as pale as the glaring man on the boat. He wondered how his skin got that dark if no one else’s was. He’d seen his kind with skin that matched the boy’s dark curls but never really on land until now. He smiled as the advisor dragged the dinghy through the sand, cursing in a foreign tongue the whole way.