Algy tried and tried to inflate his plastic boat, but it was just no use: try as he might, he simply couldn't do it. Fluffy birds are not easily discouraged, of course, so bearing in mind the poet's incitement "Say not the struggle nought availeth" Algy blew into the wee plastic tube time and time and time again, until he was completely out of breath… but it was indeed to no avail, and eventually he became so exhausted by the constant effort that he simply fell asleep on top of both the boat and his wee book of verse, completely tired out.
Imagine Algy's astonishment, therefore, when he woke from a fretful dream about trying to blow endlessly into the impossible inflation tubes of completely impossible boats, and discovered himself afloat in a most beautifully inflated wee boat, complete with suitable decorations for a voyage across the sea… and in the company of a leprechaun ☘️
For a few moments Algy assumed that he must still be dreaming, albeit in a very much more pleasant dreamland than the one in which he had found himself before. But he could feel the plastic around him, and smell the salt of the sea air, and he soon began to realise that he was indeed awake.
Gazing at the leprechaun seated opposite him, Algy suddenly remembered the wee fellow he had met in the depths of the forest on St. Patrick's Day: the sad, lost, lonely little leprechaun who had explained that he was unable to return to his home in the Emerald Isle.
"So you followed me through the forest!" exclaimed Algy.
"That I did," said the leprechaun, in his soft Irish brogue. "I knew you would be going my way, so I thought I'd be giving you a wee hand with the báidín."
Fandom: Love and Deepspace
Characters: Rafayel/Reader
Summary: “Teach me how to swim.”
// You knew where you stood, behind the line that clearly separated you from him: a princess betrothed to another, and a talented, handsome artist, free to explore the world as he wished.
But with each step you took into the waters, that same line grew murkier, and there would soon be no turning back.
It seemed Rafayel had made the right call getting you to learn how to float first.
The next time you tried practising holding your breath underwater again, a familiar apprehension gripped you, but it was swiftly washed away by the warmth of an even more familiar presence.
Rafayel stood next to you, elegantly taking your hand as if inviting you to dance. He had the stature of a prince, even though he looked nothing like one, in his drenched clothes and with his wet hair matted to his forehead.
As for you, you certainly resembled nothing like the crown princess you should have been, dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown and half-submerged in the ocean, all alone with a strange man.
By all accounts it was improper. Scandalous, even. You, standing nearly chest to chest with a man who was not your intended. It was a daily rendezvous that was slowly but surely turning into something more, with each lingering glance, each lingering touch. Each time you were with him, you felt an irresistible pull to his side, like it was where you belonged.
Now, as Rafayel drew you closer, resting a hand on the back of your head and gently pulling you down into the water with him, you followed his lead. You felt the rush of waters enveloping your body, the noise of the wind muting into the background as your head sank beneath the surface of the still waters, and then your world turned quiet and peaceful. There was no panic. No instinct to flail your arms, no racing pulse.
You could still hear your heart picking up its pace, but it wasn’t because you thought your life might be in peril again.
At the wordless beckoning of his fingers tapping on your head, you slowly opened your eyes, and saw Rafayel in front of you, his free hand clasping yours. His hair was floating in the waters, dancing languidly with the currents. With his eyes fixed on you, he offered you a smile, as if he was saying he was proud of you, and that there was nothing to fear, like he had told you before.
After all, he had promised from the very beginning that he wouldn’t let go.
Your gaze trailed to your interlocked fingers, and you squeezed his hand — a wordless thank you.
When you eventually felt like you were running out of air, you emerged to the surface together with him. The lungful of air you breathed in was crisp, salty, and you couldn’t help the wide grin spreading on your face. It was contagious; Rafayel noticed this too as he combed his hair back and out of his eyes, lips breaking into a similar smile, teeth showing.
“Thirty-two seconds. You’ve improved, princess.”
Your grin grew wider, if it was at all possible. “I did it!”
“Yeah yeah, you did it without choking me half to death this time. Good job.”
He chuckled as he easily dodged the incoming slap on his arm. “We’re making good progress. I think now’s a good time to start teaching you how to swim properly.”
“How long will that take?”
“Hmm.” Rafayel counted with his fingers, and eventually held out two of them. “I’d say, two months? Depends on how long it takes for you to learn to tread water, which is what we’ll be doing next.”
“Two months…” Your smile faltered. “That long?”
“Considering our lessons are so short, yeah.” He tilted his head, noticing your downcast gaze. “What’s wrong?”
With all the fun you were having out here, you had briefly forgotten about the reality of the burden that lay on your shoulders.
And in truth, you didn’t have much time left.
“Well, for starters…” You met his eyes, and offered him a feeble smile.
“I have to leave in two months’ time. To Yaryn.”
+++++++++++++
The secret lessons continued as they normally did. Neither of you spoke about the expiry date on this routine again, as if broaching the subject would make time slip away faster.
Still, you could feel the tension in the air each time your eyes met, the inevitable drop in your gazes that would come when either of you remembered that this would have to come to an end very soon; that the distance, no matter how minute it had become between you two, would soon become impossible to breach.
Between the two of you, Rafayel seemed to be better at hiding it. Every so often, you would catch brief flashes of reluctance and pain in those mesmerising eyes of his, only to be quickly covered up by a lighthearted joke or a teasing comment to divert your attention from his rare slip-up.
So you followed suit, not wanting to taint what little time you had left together with talk of inevitable goodbyes; you’d much rather enjoy the present for what it was, for as long as you could grasp it with your hands.
Only, it was like the seawater gradually slipping through the crevices of your fingers.
Those same thoughts were beginning to flood your mind once more on this cloudy afternoon, which you forcibly pushed away. Instead you willed yourself to concentrate on maintaining the wide, rhythmic circular motions that your hands and feet were drawing in the water to keep your head well above the surface.
“You’re doing well,” Rafayel remarked, impressed. Treading water had come naturally to you, much to your surprise, as well as his.
“Why is this important?” you asked, already starting to get bored since this was apparently all there was to it. It was also the reason your mind had started to wander off to unwanted places earlier. “You already taught me how to float on my back.”
“Good question,” he replied, raising an index finger with a flourish, as if he were playing the role of a tutor in a classroom. “It’s simple, really. Imagine you’re in the middle of the ocean, and the waves are knocking you in all directions. You’ll capsize within a few seconds of trying to stay on your back, and then you’ll be gulping down water, just like last time. Which is why you’ll need to know how to tread water so you can survive in that sort of situation.”
You nodded, but not without forgetting to point out, “But I can’t keep this up forever. How would that help if I’m really stranded somewhere?”
“You’ll just have to stay afloat for as long as you can, until help arrives.”
“I see.” You tried to think of when this might come in handy. If you were thrown overboard from a ship, maybe? The possibility of that happening was far too distant to take it seriously.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be in the water if you’re not with me though.”
It really had been more an honest observation than a compliment, but still you watched as the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a smug smirk.
“That’s right,” Rafayel agreed heartily, his eyes shining with pride. “You shouldn’t be in the water without adult supervision.”
You huffed at him. “I am of age, Sir Rafayel. Everybody knows that.”
“That may be true, princess,” he acknowledged, deliberately taking on a facetious tone, “but in swimmer terms, you’re just a baby fishie. No bigger than a newborn guppy.”
You gawked at him, offended. “I’m not a— a guppy!” The word was parroted with great disdain.
He merely shrugged, feigning helplessness. “I don’t make the rules. You have to work your way up like any other.”
“And what does that make you?” you challenged, with a subtle upward tip of your chin.
Rafayel didn’t shy away from your question. In fact, it only seemed to amuse him, his eyes darkening slightly and gleaming with mischief — a sign that usually never boded well for you. There was no time to react though, when you felt his arm curl around your waist to pull you in towards him, like a net scooping you in. You barely avoided knocking your head against his by planting your hands on his shoulders.
You should have gotten used to it by now, and even though his touch was entirely innocuous to support you in the water, you were hyper-aware of his fingertips on your midriff and lower back, and the way your legs had instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist.
The proximity had your body heating up, despite the cool waters engulfing your bodies. You feared he would be able to hear your thundering heart, loud and unabashed as it was in its relentless hammering against your ribcage.
“Since I’ve been swimming for way longer than you,” he countered, “that makes me a big fish. A big fish that eats little fishies, I might add.”
If the goal was to sound threatening, it was an utterly miserable failure. You could not imagine Rafayel ever posing any sort of danger to you, having already saved your life once.
You felt yourself relax slightly, tense shoulders dropping as you ironed your face into a cool facade.
“But you’re teaching this little fishie to swim,” you parried. “Soon I’ll be able to swim faster and away from you.”
He flashed a grin, showing you his pearly teeth.
“You can try, princess. But I’m confident I’ll be able to catch up to you.”
Sturdy swimmers afloat on water-couch Beneath the heavy bill their treasured pouchFishes pray for them to fly far away Inland lakes toast to the Pelican’s day
