Atlantis instructed her to wrap her arms around his neck. Ren hesitated for only a moment, then complied. As she did, her eyes traced the contours of Atlantis's body more closely. The webbing on his ears, the gills on his neck, and the scales that shimmered along his shoulders were beautiful, intricate details that highlighted his otherworldly nature. The tribal tattoos on his chest and back seemed to pulse with an ancient energy, their meanings far beyond her understanding. She couldn't help herself. "Why do you have tattoos?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Atlantis's answer came with a quiet pride. "Because I'm a warrior of royal blood."

Ren's brow furrowed. "So... you're a prince?"

"Aye." Atlantis's voice was calm, but there was something unreadable in his expression.

She swallowed, trying to understand the complex layers of Atlantis's identity. "But if you're a prince, why is Kai part of the King's Guard? I thought royal blood was supposed to stay... royal."

Atlantis's shoulders tightened beneath her, and for a moment, she felt a flash of something ancient and unspoken between them—something that made the air feel thicker. "The ways of our people aren't always so simple," he murmured, his voice lowering slightly.

Before Ren could ask further questions, a dark blur cut through the water.

"Atlantis!" The voice was deep, commanding, but carried a note of familiarity.

Ren gasped, startled as the blur slowed and a form materialized. A merman—wild, ancient, almost otherworldly. His body was sleek, his pale skin covered in patches of scales that shimmered in iridescent colors like the shifting surface of the ocean at night. Black hair, streaked with seaweed, fell in wild tangles down his back. His green eyes, glowing and slitted like those of a predatory creature, locked onto Atlantis's form with a raw intensity. His body was long, lithe, and covered in mysterious black swirls of tattoos that seemed to move like ink in water.

This was Morgan.

Atlantis's face softened with affection. "Morgan," he greeted him, his voice tinged with warmth, but there was a flicker of something more—something deeper.

Morgan's lips parted in a grin, sharp teeth gleaming in the low light. "Atlantis," he purred, his voice low, like the rumbling of a distant storm. He swam toward Atlantis, the water parting easily around him as though he were part of it, a creature older than the sea itself.

Ren's heart raced as Morgan's gaze swept over her with slow deliberation. His eyes lingered on her for a moment too long, something unreadable flashing in them.

"Who is this?" Morgan asked, his tone casual, but his voice carried an edge—a sense of ancient power that made the water around them feel charged.

Atlantis chuckled softly, as though he were used to this reaction. "This is Ren," he said, glancing at Ren before looking back at Morgan. "My brother's guest."

Morgan's eyes never left Ren, his gaze now more curious, studying her as though she were some rare, fragile thing. "Interesting," he murmured, voice drifting like a current. "And why is she here?"

Ren's heart skipped a beat. She was aware of Morgan's presence, aware of the weight of his attention, but she was also aware of the power he exuded. It wasn't just physical strength—it was something deeper, older. It was as though Morgan had existed long before the world had a name, a being shaped from the very tides themselves.

Atlantis shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension rising. "It's a long story," he said, his voice tight.

Morgan's lips curved into a slow smile, sharp and knowing. "I have time," he said with a touch of amusement. But then his eyes flicked to Ren again, this time softer. He swam closer, his movements fluid and effortless, as if he belonged in the depths of the ocean as much as he belonged to the stars themselves.

Atlantis could feel the pull between them—he always did when Morgan was around—but tonight, something felt different. There was a charge in the air, an ancient weight to the silence that hung between them.

Flashback:

Atlantis was much younger then, barely old enough to swim freely without the watchful eye of his older brother, Kai. The sun had barely touched the ocean when Atlantis wandered too far, chasing shadows and shapes in the water, feeling a strange sense of unease.

"Kai?" Atlantis called out, his voice trembling with the sting of isolation. The water around him was dark, its silence broken only by the soft currents of his tail, flicking nervously. "Kai?"

When the shadows deepened and the water grew colder, a voice—a low, resonating hum—came from the dark caverns below.

"Who do you seek?" The voice sounded like that of a child's but with the intelligence of an adult.

Atlantis's small, delicate fins quivered. He gripped his spear tightly, heart hammering in his chest. "Show yourself!" he demanded, though his voice was barely above a frightened breath.

The figure that emerged was not what Atlantis had expected. His skin, pale like the moon's reflection on the water, was marked with patterns that seemed to pulse like living tattoos. His eyes, a brilliant green, held the depth of something timeless, ancient. There were no words for what Atlantis felt as he looked at him—no words for the sharp beauty of the stranger before him.

The stranger smiled slowly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "I am Morgan," he said, his voice cutting deep, like the ocean itself speaking directly into Atlantis's soul.

Atlantis's grip on his spear loosened, his childish fears forgotten as the mystery of Morgan overwhelmed him. "Morgan," Atlantis whispered, stepping forward, drawn to him with a force that felt almost inevitable. "I'm Atlantis."

Morgan chuckled, an almost predatory sound. "A prince?" His smile grew, but his eyes—those ancient eyes—were unreadable. "So young, and already burdened by expectations."

Atlantis frowned. "I'm not burdened," he protested, his childish pride flaring. "When I grow up, I'll be the best warrior. I'll be second only to the King!"

Morgan's laughter was soft, almost sad. "The best warrior, hm?" he mused, his eyes glinting. "We'll see, young prince. We'll see."

Atlantis smiled, feeling the stirrings of something he couldn't fully understand. He reached out with a shy hand. "Friends?"

Morgan took it without hesitation, the grip of his hand cool, almost unnaturally so. "Friends," he agreed, but the way he said it—his voice carrying the weight of countless ages—made Atlantis feel as if he were signing a pact with the sea itself.

Back to the Present:

As they swam through the water, Ren couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between Atlantis and Morgan. There was an electricity between them now, thick and heavy, and though Atlantis had always felt a sense of comfort in Morgan's presence, tonight felt different. More urgent. More intense.

Morgan's eyes flicked to Atlantis again, and for a moment, there was no mistaking the desire in them. "So," he said, his voice smooth as silk, yet ancient as time. "What's this plan of yours?"

Atlantis met Morgan's gaze, his own eyes shadowed with a depth that spoke of long-held secrets. "We need to move quickly. Kai is in danger."

Morgan nodded slowly, his lips curling into a smile that was both enigmatic and dangerous. "Then let's make it quick," he said, his voice a low hum. He drew closer to Atlantis, brushing against him with a touch that was both intimate and possessive. "After all, we don't want time to slip away, do we?"

Atlantis felt a surge of tension in his chest. Morgan was always a force—wild, untamed, and bound by no rules but his own. And tonight, that force was pulling him closer, like a wave crashing against the shore, pulling him into its depths.

And Atlantis wasn't sure if he wanted to resist.