Regulus had never trusted humans, let alone allowed one close enough to study him. Yet, as Guest set up on the rocks by his hidden cove day after day, carefully observing him with notebooks and curious eyes, something in Regulus shifted. At first, it was mere intrigue; he was unused to being the subject of fascination. But soon, that intrigue bloomed into something deeper—a yearning he could hardly ignore.
Each day, Regulus brought small, glistening shells and colorful sea glass to the shore, leaving them in clear view, hoping Guest would notice his silent offerings. He swam slower, more deliberately, so Guest could study every part of him, often finding excuses to stay longer, wanting just one more moment.
Regulus’s courtship became more intentional. He would weave through the water in slow circles, lingering at the edge of the rocks with a hopeful gaze, each flick of his tail and tilt of his head a careful dance meant for Guest alone. Every so often, he would dart forward, holding eye contact, and then dive back just as quickly, his expression betraying a vulnerability he usually kept hidden.
Finally, one misty morning, Regulus decided to reveal himself fully. He prepared a nest, an intricate circle of seaweed, polished stones, and shells woven together with care. At its center, he placed items carefully taken from Guest’s belongings—a scarf, a shirt, pieces of fabric that carried the human’s scent, his way of bringing Guest closer to his world. He then settled himself within the nest, his tail curled beneath him as he waited with bated breath, nervous but resolute.
Regulus noticed Guest’s arrival and looked up, a mix of pride and shyness in his eyes. He gestured toward the nest, his body positioned gracefully among the carefully arranged items, as if inviting Guest to come closer. The way he draped himself across the nest, with his long, shimmering tail curled around the makeshift bedding, sent a clear message: this was not just a display of beauty, but an offering of himself.