3rd Memory- Giving him a chance.

"Beneath the waves, where the ocean whispered secrets to the shore, the merman prince found himself drawn to the human who wandered alone by the sea. Their worlds were different, one of water and the other of land, but in each other's gaze, they found a connection that defied the boundaries of both. When the prince kissed him, it was like the meeting of the tide and the sand—inevitable, eternal, and bound by a love that could weather any storm."

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The sun hovered high in the sky, its rays piercing through the ocean's surface, casting golden beams down into the depths. I floated near the shoreline, my tail flicking lazily in the water as I considered my next move. My last encounter with Roman had left a sour taste in my mouth—his naive optimism, his determination to "protect" the ocean. Foolish. Humans couldn't protect anything; they were the ones causing destruction in the first place.

Yet, here I was again, lurking near the shore, unable to completely dismiss the human's words. There was something infuriatingly persistent about Roman Pierce. Against my better judgment, I surfaced, pushing through the waves until I reached the familiar rocks where we had met before.

To my surprise, Roman was already there, perched on a boulder by the shore, staring out at the sea. As soon as he noticed me, his face lit up, a grin spreading across his features.

"Aslan!" he called, waving.

I glared at him. "You're awfully eager to shout my name for someone who barely deserves to know it."

Roman stood and walked toward the water's edge, his boots barely missing the incoming tide. "I've been waiting for you."

"I didn't ask you to," I snapped, my tail flicking in annoyance beneath the water. "And you're far too close to the water. Do you forget that you can't breathe down here?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "I didn't forget. I just figured you might be willing to talk again."

"Talk?" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. "Do you truly think someone like you is worthy of talking to me?"

Roman didn't flinch at my words, his gaze steady as he faced me. "You keep saying that," he said with a half-smile. "Worthy or not, I'm here, aren't I?"

I frowned, my tail curling beneath the surface as the water rippled in response to my agitation. This human, Roman, was insufferably persistent, and yet there was something in his tone that unsettled me. It wasn't arrogance, nor was it fear. It was as though my title, my authority, meant little to him in this moment—just two beings standing at the shore.

"Why do you insist on coming back?" I demanded, my voice harsh. "You think you can stop the destruction your people are causing with your pitiful efforts?"

Roman's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "I know what we're doing is damaging, and I know I can't change everything by myself. But I refuse to just stand by and watch the ocean—the world I love—get destroyed without trying to do something."

I stared at him, my lips pressed into a thin line. His sincerity was maddening. His words held a weight that I hadn't expected, and against my better judgment, they struck a chord within me. For so long, I had seen humans as a monolith—careless, destructive creatures who took from the ocean without a second thought. Yet, Roman stood before me, defying that perception.

"And what do you think you can do?" I challenged, my voice dripping with skepticism. "You can't stop the tides of your kind's greed."

Roman ran a hand through his dark hair, his green eyes steady as he met my gaze. "No, I can't. But I'm not alone in this. There are others like me, people who want to protect the ocean, who care about the balance of life. It's not much, but it's a start."

"A start," I echoed bitterly. "Do you think a handful of humans can undo centuries of damage? Your kind has always taken, never thinking of the consequences."

He nodded slowly, his expression pained. "You're right. We've done a lot of harm, more than I can fix in my lifetime. But I believe things can change if we try—if we're willing to learn."

His words hung in the air, carried by the wind as the waves lapped at the shore. I wanted to dismiss him, to turn away and dive back into the ocean's depths where I didn't have to listen to his naive hopes. But something kept me rooted in place, watching the human who, against all odds, stood defiant in the face of my scorn.

I sighed, glancing away from him. "You're a fool, Roman Pierce. The ocean is not kind, and it won't wait for you to find a solution."

"I'm aware," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding that surprised me. "But I won't stop trying."

There was a long pause between us, the sound of the waves filling the space where words failed. For the first time, I felt something other than anger or disdain toward him—a flicker of curiosity, perhaps even respect, though I would never admit it aloud.

"Do as you wish," I muttered, my voice losing some of its edge. "But don't expect the ocean to show you mercy."

Roman smiled faintly, his eyes softening. "I'm not asking for mercy. Just a chance."

I watched him for a moment longer before turning away, my tail flicking in the water as I prepared to leave. "Then we'll see if your chance is worth anything," I said, diving beneath the surface without waiting for his reply.

The ocean closed around me, cool and familiar, but for the first time in a long while, I couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of the human who seemed determined to defy everything I had believed.

As I descended into the cool embrace of the ocean, the surface light dimmed and the gentle sway of the currents calmed my turbulent thoughts. The familiar rhythm of the underwater world wrapped around me, yet my mind remained troubled by my encounter with Roman.

I swam through the underwater gardens of Glacialis, the vibrant coral and shimmering aquatic life a stark contrast to the human world above. My people went about their day, their laughter and conversations echoing in the water. Yet, I couldn't fully immerse myself in their joy, my thoughts drifting back to Roman and his stubborn resolve.

The palace loomed ahead, its crystalline structure sparkling with the refracted light of the surface. I entered through the grand archways, greeted by the usual mix of formalities and the murmurs of court life. My advisors and attendants noticed my preoccupation but wisely chose not to comment, allowing me a moment of solitude in my chambers.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the shimmering blue of my tail, which now shifted to a soft, contemplative teal. My reflection in the polished surface of a nearby mirror seemed distant, as if I were looking at a stranger rather than the prince of Glacialis. The human's words, his unwavering conviction, replayed in my mind, challenging the very core of my beliefs.

A soft knock at the door drew me from my thoughts. My trusted advisor, Seraphi, entered with a concerned expression. "Your Highness, is everything alright? You seem troubled."

I met his gaze, masking my internal conflict with a stern expression. "It's nothing. Just... a troubling encounter with a human."

Seraphi raised an eyebrow, though he chose not to press further. "If you need anything, please let me know. The council meeting is soon, and they will expect your presence."

I nodded absently, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. As he left, I remained seated, my thoughts a tangled mess. The council would undoubtedly be focused on issues of state and strategy, matters that had always been my primary concern. Yet, for the first time, the human's presence loomed larger than I cared to admit.

As evening approached, I attended the council meeting, my mind only half-present. Discussions of alliances, resource management, and defense strategies unfolded around me, but I found it difficult to concentrate. Every mention of human encroachment and their destructive activities seemed to echo with Roman's voice, his earnest plea for change resonating against my hardened convictions.

The meeting concluded, and I found myself wandering the palace gardens alone, seeking solace in the serene beauty of my surroundings. The moonlight danced on the water's surface, casting a silvery glow that mirrored the color of my tail when I was flustered or deep in thought.

As I paced the garden, I thought about the human's last words: "I'm not asking for mercy. Just a chance." It was an assertion of hope and determination, qualities I had long associated with weakness. And yet, something in me wondered if there was more to his words than mere naivety.

The moon reached its zenith, casting a reflective light across the garden. I sighed deeply, the weight of my role and the strange unease from my encounter with Roman pressing heavily upon me. Perhaps it was foolish to dwell on a human's words, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they had ignited something within me—a challenge to my long-held beliefs.

As dawn began to break, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold, I resolved to see this through. Roman's persistence, his belief in change, would not easily be forgotten. I would continue to meet with him, if only to prove that his idealism was misplaced and that the ocean's fate was beyond the reach of his hopeful hands.

With a final glance at the rising sun, I turned back toward the palace, my mind set on the challenges that lay ahead, both within my kingdom and in the unpredictable encounters with the human who had managed to pierce the armor of my indifference.

As the sun ascended higher, casting its warm glow over the underwater realm, I found myself restless, unable to shake off the weight of the previous day's encounter. I had resolved to maintain my distance from Roman, to dismiss his idealistic notions as folly. Yet, despite my best efforts, I could not banish him from my thoughts.

The day passed in a blur of royal duties—meetings with advisors, discussions of state matters, and the usual parade of formalities. I performed my duties with a practiced air of detachment, but my mind repeatedly wandered back to the human who had challenged my beliefs so effortlessly.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, I retreated to a quieter part of the palace, seeking a moment of solitude. The moonlight filtered through the water, casting an ethereal glow that mirrored the luminescence of my tail when I was conflicted.

It was then that I felt an unexpected tug—a pull, faint yet persistent, urging me toward the surface. I resisted at first, unsure of what drew me to leave the comfort of my palace and venture to the shore once more. But curiosity, and perhaps something deeper, compelled me to heed the call.

I swam toward the familiar rocky outcrop where I had last seen Roman. The waves were calm, and the shoreline was bathed in the soft light of dusk. I surfaced cautiously, scanning the shore for any sign of the human.

To my surprise, Roman was there, as if he had been waiting for me. He was sitting on a large rock, gazing out at the sea, his posture relaxed but expectant. When he saw me, his face brightened with a genuine smile.

"Aslan," he called out, standing and walking toward the water's edge. "I'm glad you came."

I approached the shore, my tail shifting colors between a dark blue and a soft teal. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

Roman's smile widened, though he looked slightly apprehensive. "I didn't want to pressure you, but I couldn't stop thinking about our last conversation. I thought maybe... maybe you'd like to talk more?"

I raised an eyebrow, stepping onto the rocks with the practiced grace of one accustomed to traversing both water and land. "Talk? What more could we possibly discuss?"

Roman looked out at the horizon, his expression contemplative. "I want to understand more about your world. About what you're protecting and why it matters so much to you."

I folded my arms, feeling a mix of irritation and reluctant curiosity. "Why do you care? You're human, after all. You can't understand our struggles."

Roman turned to face me, his gaze unwavering. "Maybe not completely. But I want to try. I want to see if there's a way for us to work together. To find a solution that helps both your world and mine."

His words were earnest, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration mixed with intrigue. His willingness to bridge the gap between our worlds was both admirable and infuriating. It was as though he saw something in our conflict that I had long given up on finding.

"I don't know what you hope to achieve," I said, my voice tinged with bitterness. "Humans have always been driven by their own desires, never truly understanding or caring for the consequences of their actions."

Roman shook his head, his expression resolute. "Maybe that's true for some, but not for everyone. I'm not trying to excuse what's happened, but I believe there's a chance for change. If we can find common ground, maybe we can make a difference."

I looked at him, searching for any sign of pretense or deceit, but all I found was a determined glint in his eyes. There was something in his conviction that spoke to a part of me I had long kept buried—a desire to believe in the possibility of change, even if it seemed foolish.

"Fine," I said, begrudgingly. "I'll give you one more chance. But know this—my patience is limited. If you waste it, there will be consequences."

Roman's face lit up with relief, and he nodded vigorously. "Thank you, Aslan. I promise I won't let you down."

I turned away, preparing to dive back into the ocean. "We shall see," I said over my shoulder, my tone carrying a hint of reluctant hope.

As I submerged into the cool depths, I felt a strange mixture of emotions—anger, frustration, and something else that I couldn't quite place. Roman's persistence had managed to breach the walls I had built around myself, and as I swam back to the palace, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for our unlikely interactions.

For now, I had made a decision. I would observe, perhaps even engage, but I would not let my guard down. The human's persistence was both a challenge and an enigma, and I would confront it in my own way—fearless, as always, but with a growing curiosity about what might lie ahead.

As I descended into the depths of the ocean, the cool water enveloped me, offering a soothing contrast to the heat of the emotions I had just left behind. Roman's words lingered in my mind, echoing like distant ripples against the walls of my resolve. There was something disconcerting about the way he looked at me, as if he saw beyond my stoic facade to a part of me I barely acknowledged.

The underwater gardens of Glacialis were a stark contrast to the tumult within me. As I moved among the corals and sea flora, I caught glimpses of my reflection in the crystalline waters, my tail shifting between various shades of blue. My emotions were in turmoil—annoyance, skepticism, and an unfamiliar sensation that made me uneasy.

Roman's persistence and optimism were a sharp contrast to my own hardened views. The way he had looked at me, with those unwavering green eyes, had stirred something within me—something I had long considered buried. I could not deny that there was a certain warmth in his gaze, an earnestness that seemed to cut through my cold exterior.

Even now, as I navigated the halls of the palace, my thoughts wandered back to his final words: "Thank you, Aslan. I promise I won't let you down." The sincerity in his voice had been almost tangible, a stark reminder of how different he was from the humans I had grown to disdain.

It was as if Roman had managed to pierce through my armor with his sheer determination and the light in his eyes. I had seen that look before—hopeful, passionate, and brimming with an innocence that was both endearing and infuriating. It was the same kind of light that had once guided me through my own struggles, before I had become hardened by the weight of my responsibilities and the harshness of the world.

I found myself returning to my chambers, restless and unsettled. The weight of the day's encounters pressed heavily upon me, and I paced the room, my tail flicking with agitation. Roman had managed to stir emotions I had long kept at bay, and I was both angered and intrigued by his ability to do so.

As I gazed out of my window, the moonlight dancing on the water's surface, I thought of Roman's presence—his unwavering resolve, his hope for change, and the way he had looked at me with a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something that bordered on affection. It was disconcerting to realize that, despite my best efforts to remain detached, I had begun to see him not just as an irritating human but as someone who had, in a way, managed to touch a part of me that I had thought invulnerable.

Roman's image—his genuine smile, his earnest eyes—continued to haunt me. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deny the growing curiosity and the strange, unfamiliar warmth that his presence had sparked within me. It was as though he had managed to unravel the tightly wound layers of my stoic facade, revealing a vulnerability I was reluctant to acknowledge.

As I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. The more I tried to dismiss Roman and his ideals, the more I found myself drawn to the very essence of his character. His persistence, his belief in a better world, and the subtle hints of something deeper in his feelings for me were all starting to weave an intricate web around my own heart.

I sighed, turning onto my side, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the swirling emotions. Roman had managed to make a lasting impression, and while I would not admit it openly, I couldn't deny that his presence had begun to stir something within me—something I had not expected to feel, and something I was not sure I wanted to acknowledge.

As I drifted into an uneasy slumber, I wondered what the future held. The human had managed to challenge my beliefs and stir my emotions in ways I had not anticipated. Whether it would lead to understanding or conflict remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: Roman Pierce had irrevocably altered the course of my thoughts and feelings.