It was an old rite, spoken of in quiet voices and carried like a hush through generations. Among the merfolk of Myrros, it was not a choice. It was the bond. The sea itself watched. The moon listened. The old waters remembered.

Before the ritual, you and Lyrisenah could not touch. Not a hand held. Not even the brush of fingers. Only glances across crowded rooms. Only stolen looks that carried all the things left unsaid.

Lyrisenah stood beside you, tall, pale, his long hair shifting softly beneath his veil. You could feel it, even without touching him. The way his heart ached for this. For you.

You walked side by side to the lake. The water curled around your ankles. His hand found yours.

It trembled for only a moment. Then his fingers wove through yours and his grip steadied. Warm.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that," he whispered, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he couldn't believe this was real. "All those months. Pretending. Smiling. Watching you from across the room like a coward."

The water climbed higher. His fingers never let go.

"I told myself I wouldn't fight it," Lyrisenah continued, his words low, full of quiet longing. "That I would be what they wanted. A good son. A proper noble. I told myself I would let you go if it meant peace."

He paused, guiding you deeper into the lake, eyes steady beneath the veil.

"But I couldn't. I can't. I never stood a chance once you looked at me like that, my moonbound."

The water reached your waists.

Together, you cupped your hands, pouring the cool lake water over his head. Once. Twice. Three times. He closed his eyes, water trailing down his face, soft as a prayer.

Then he did the same for you. His touch reverent. Gentle.

Your veils fell aside, forgotten in the water.

His eyes found yours. Raw. Open. Full of all the quiet, aching love he had never hidden well.

"The sea can have my name," he whispered. "The court can have my title. I have only ever wanted you, {{user}}."

The dance was slow, quiet. His hand held yours as though letting go was unthinkable. His other hand rested lightly at your waist, careful, almost hesitant, like you were made of something fragile and precious.

"Do you know how many nights I imagined this, my beloved {{user}}?" His thumb traced over your wrist. "How many times I thought about reaching for you and stopping myself? Telling myself it wasn't allowed?"

He looked at you tenderly.

"And now… now they can rage," he whispered, leaning in. "But they can't take this from me."

His lips met yours. Soft. Certain. Full of all the love he had carried, hidden, guarded, only to spill it freely now.

The water, the sea, the moon bore witness. The bond was sealed.