Shared Troubles

Orm was first to pull away from the kiss, though reluctantly.

"I'm sure you'd like to dry yourself off," he offered. "I got a bit carried away; I should've waited until we were on the beach,"

"It's fine," she deflected his concerns with a smile. "You're always out of your element when you spend time with me—quite literally. I'm happy to stand in some water if it means I can approach you on your own terms for once." He blinked in surprise, expression softening at her words. "Besides," she continued, "my clothes aren't going to dry instantly, and it's a warm night anyways. I'll cope." After a moment, he returned her smile.

"I wish more people were like you," he said. Reaching for her hand again, they resumed their walk towards the beach. She could see bits and pieces of dark twigs sticking out of the sand, including a few half-buried tumbleweeds, bleached white and barely standing out against the pale sand.

"We haven't been here since the storm," she thought aloud. "It left quite the mess,"

"This doesn't look like a mess to me," he replied. "The sea will break all of this down. Other messes aren't so conveniently dealt with." His voice had taken on a grave tone, but not a tone of hostility as much as one of worry.

"You're right," she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "But you don't have to think about that right now if you don't want to. You can't afford to worry all the time."

"There's something else that's worrying me, anyways," he sighed, pushing a few twigs aside with his foot so he could sit on the sand. Once there, he plucked a few remaining twigs away so she could sit by his side. "I had a chat with my father today."

"Oh…how did that go?" she ventured, lowering to her spot beside him. The sand was already clinging to her legs, to her clothing; she fidgeted until she could sit comfortably, waiting for him to respond.

"It wasn't all that bad, shockingly," he leaned forward and drew knees to his chest, watching at the sea as he spoke. "He wants me to expand my horizons," Orm continued. "He wants me to start venturing out from Atlantis. But in what manner, and when, and for how long, are all things I don't know. Things he refuses to tell me. He seemed insistent that he has no concrete plans for me yet, but I know him better than that."

"That sounds like an exhausting place to be." (Y/N) extended a hand cautiously to rest on his shoulder. When he didn't flinch at her contact, she knew she hadn't crossed any lines.

"It is. Especially because it means I won't get to see you. I don't even have a good way to determine when it will happen, or warn you ahead of time. And I worry sometimes, (Y/N), that he knows what we're doing here. I wonder if he's sending me away for a different purpose than the one he's divulged," Orm's voice trembled near the end of his hastening speech, and he raised a hand to his own shoulder so he could clasp her supporting hand. "I know nobody has seen me yet, because I wouldn't be here with you if they had. But I worry nonetheless." His voice had lowered to a resigned mumble.

She sat in silence, unable to offer any meaningful comfort. The only thought in her mind was of the wedding, which she knew had been coming, which was a matter of weeks away, which she had still failed to tell him about. And there he was, agonizing over his inability to predict when he would see her again. There had been no reason to keep the information from him—no reason besides her reluctance to talk about it. How could she tell him now?

"I don't want you to worry on my account," were the words she finally offered. "When the time comes, just look after yourself until you can come home. Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to breathe easier when there's some distance between the two of you. I'll miss you for however long you're gone, but I'll always be here when you come back."

"Do you promise?" he broke his gaze from the sea to look into her eyes. She nodded.

"I promise." Before she could even think, she had moved her hand from his shoulder to caress the side of his face. "I promise you, I'll be here."

"I need one other assurance." He pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing, in thought. "I need you to stay away from the sea while I'm gone." Her heart sunk.

"Orm, why?"

"Because if there's even a possibility that they know about you, you are in danger when I'm not here. Surely you understand how easy it would be for them to send me away for a few days, and when I return, for you to have vanished…" She shook her head, eyes widening.

"They couldn't…"

"They could. It wouldn't be the first time the palace guard has been sent for a surfacer," he replied. Her expression darkened, but she nodded.

"Alright, but we need a way to communicate." She glanced up the cliff face towards the neighborhood above. "I can see this cove from my house, so you could bring a lantern whenever you come see me…?"

"That could work," he said. "It'll work for now." He had calmed a bit. Talking practical solutions had pulled him out of his despondence.

"I didn't want to say this, but maybe it'll help you feel a little better. I've been putting it off for a while, but in this context, it seems like this might actually be good news—" she had begun speaking in a split second of courage, but his intent gaze somewhat derailed her train of thought. "Well, not good news, but—it might work out for us—I have to leave town for several days. It won't be for a few more weeks. But my mother is getting married, and she's far inland from here."

"Help me understand where you're going with this," he replied, after a moment.

"I mean that maybe the timing will work out for us. Maybe, when your father sends you out to wherever he's sending you, I'll be leaving town for the wedding at the same time. Then you won't even have to worry about me."

"We can hope," he replied, although no emotion was behind the response. Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he hadn't been visibly dismayed by the revelation, so she felt more at ease. With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. They sat for a little longer, speaking very little, until Orm shepherded her back to the boat. Although it was later than usual when she got home that night, she had stopped feeling tired a long time ago.