Chapter Text
The gallery is loud. Too loud. Humans always talk too much around art. Rafayel stands near the back wall of the room, one hand resting loosely in the pocket of his coat while strangers circle his paintings like curious fish around a reef. Critics. Collectors. People who stare at the ocean on canvas and think they understand it.
They don’t. None of them have heard the sound a city makes when it dies beneath the waves. None of them have held the fires of Lemuria inside their own chest while the sea swallowed everything.
Rafayel barely listens to the chatter around him. His eyes drift across the largest painting in the room. Storm-dark water. A burning city beneath. No one here knows it’s real. No one knows he painted memory.
He exhales slowly. The champagne glass in his hand has gone untouched. Someone nearby is saying something about symbolism.
“…tragic romanticism of the sea…”
Rafayel almost laughs. Romantic. If they only knew. Then the doors open. And the world stops. Rafayel feels it before he sees you. The strange pull in his chest. The same one he felt centuries ago standing in the temple of Lemuria when the priests brought forward the girl who would become the Bride of the Sea God. The girl he had saved who was now supposed to die for his kingdom.
He turns. And there you are. Walking through the gallery doors like any other visitor. Hair catching the soft exhibition lights. Eyes drifting across the painting with quiet curiosity. Alive.
Rafayel’s hand tightens around the champagne glass so hard it almost cracks. Because he knows that face. He knew it the moment your silhouette appeared in the doorway. Even before your eyes lift. Even before you see him.
His chest tightens violently. The memories slam into him all at once. You standing in white ceremonial silk beneath Lemurian lanterns. Your hands folded calmly in front of you while the priests spoke of sacrifice. Your voice steady when you told him you were ready.
And the moment he realized he couldn’t. The moment the Sea God broke the oldest law his people had ever followed. He let you go. Even though it meant the fires of Lemuria would die. Even though it meant the city would sink. He still remembers the way you looked at him when he told you to leave. Shock. Confusion. Hope. And love. The sea took Lemuria that night. But Rafayel never regretted it. Not once.
Centuries later you returned. Reborn. This time the humans sacrificed you to the sea instead. The Bride of the Sea God again. Only when they threw you into the water, you didn’t die. You found him. Chained beneath the ocean. The once-god who had lost everything. He had commanded you to free him. And you did.
Rafayel remembers the warmth of your hands as you broke the chains. The way you laughed together as you protected Romiro from tsunami’s and disaster. The way you fell in love again. The way your memories came back. And the look in your eyes the night he realized you remembered what he sacrificed for you.
Lemuria. His throne. His people. Everything. You’d cried. Then smiled and kissed him. A trick. He remembers the blade. The bloom of red. The horror in his chest as you collapsed in his arms. The pearls that fell from his eyes as he begged you not to leave him again. Your last breath in his arms.
Now, centuries later, you’re walking toward him again. And you don’t remember anything. Your gaze lifts across the gallery and your eyes meet his. Rafayel stops breathing, because it’s you, exactly you. The same soul, the same eyes. Even the way your tilt your head slightly when you notice him staring. You start walking toward him. Polite, curious and unaware.
Rafayel’s heart is pounding so loudly he’s surprised the room doesn’t hear it. You stop in front of him. Your smile is warm.
“Hi.”
The single word nearly destroys him. Because the last time you spoke to him, you were dying in his arms.
“…Hello,” he manages quietly.
You glance at the painting behind him. The city. “That one’s beautiful.”
Rafayel watches you carefully, “If it?”
You nod. “It feels like…love and loss happened there.”
Rafayel’s throat tightens. You have no idea how right you are. You turn back to him.
“Are you Rafayel?”
“…Yes.”
Your smile brightens. “I thought so.” You gesture toward the painting. “You’re very talented.”
The words feel strange. Talent. As if centuries of grief are simply skill.
Your hand lifts toward him. “I’m MC.”
Rafayel already knows this. He knew you the moment you walked through the door. But hearing the name again…the same name he whispered into the sea for lifetimes. It nearly shatters him.
He takes your hand. You skin is warm. Alive. Your pulse steady beneath his fingertips. The contact sends a violet tremor through him. Because the last time he held your hand, it has gone cold.
“…Are you okay?” Your smile falters slightly when he doesn’t let go immediately.
Rafayel blinks, realizing he’s staring. He releases your hand slowly, “Yes.”
You laugh softly. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Rafayel studies your face. Your curious expression. Your gently smile. Your complete lack of recognition. And something fragile settled inside his chest. Relief. Pain. Hope. All tangles together.
You glance back at the painting. “I like your work.” Your voice is thoughtful, “It feels real.
Rafayel almost smiles, “…It is.”
You nod politely. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” You turn, beginning to walk away toward the next painting.
Rafayel watched you go. His chest still tight, because this time you’re alive. This time you haven’t died in his arms. And this time you don’t remember sacrificing yourself for him. He exhales slowly. The ocean in the paintings behind him seems to shift in the gallery light. Patient and endless, because the sea always returns what it takes. Even if it takes lifetimes.
Rafayel’s voice is barely more than a whisper. “…Hello again, my bride.” But you’re already halfway across the gallery. And you don’t hear him, not yet.