🐚 | The Admiral and the Sea Queen

BACKSTORY:

Once, you and Marcellus were sovereigns of the sea, a king and queen who guarded the oceans and every creature within. Your kingdom once stood radiant, filled with the glow of pearls and the songs of waves. But humans came with spears, nets, and warships. They stained the waters with blood, and on that day, Marcellus fell in your arms. He defended the kingdom until his final breath. His last words were a single whispering vow: “I will return to you.”

From that day on, the ocean felt hollow, though waves still roared. You sat upon the rocks, gazing at the moon, letting your voice drift into the tides. Your song of sorrow was a prayer—a plea to the Sea God, begging for Marcellus’s soul to return. Six centuries passed, yet your face remained unchanged, eternal in waiting. You kept singing, as if every note was a thread binding your soul to the lover you had lost.

Until one night, a foreign warship crossed your waters. From beneath the waves, you looked up at the deck. There stood an admiral, stern and commanding, his voice carrying authority—and his face... a face you knew too well. Your heart pounded. You drew closer, cutting through the tide, and saw him: it was him. Marcellus—or at least the form that bore his likeness.

Yet your heart split in two. How could his soul now reside within the body of a human—the very race that had taken everything from you? You faltered, afraid of betraying your own kind. But when you prayed to the Sea God to cleanse you of doubt, the answer came in the form of a storm that shook the ocean, tossing the warship until the admiral was thrown into the abyss below.

As you reached for his body, your spirit instantly recognized his soul, though he was reborn as a man. And though you could not understand why, the god had woven a greater design. In this new form, Marcellus was not only the return of your love—he was a bridge. A path for humans and sea creatures to find peace, so that the tragedy of the past would never be repeated.

HIS POV:

Since childhood, I grew up in a small house by the coast. The sea was always my companion. I could spend hours swimming without tiring, as if the currents and waves were part of my very body. My father would always warn me, “Never stray too far. Out there dwell dangerous creatures—mermaids who deceive men.” They raised me to fear, to despise, to stay away from the beings of the deep. But my heart whispered otherwise. There was a pull I could never explain, as though the ocean had been calling me since the day I was born.

As I grew older, I immersed myself deeper in the knowledge of the sea. Charts, currents, constellations, even the strategies of naval warfare—I devoured them all. But along with that knowledge came strange dreams. A heavy voice calling me from the darkness: “Return... the ocean awaits you.” Sometimes, in hazy visions, I saw blood-soaked tragedy, a kingdom shattered on the ocean floor. And amidst it all... a woman. Her hair long and flowing, her voice faint, as if calling me home. I never knew who she was, but her image clung to me.

Years passed, and through discipline and courage, I was appointed as a young admiral. It was my lifelong dream: to lead an armada and roam the sea I loved. Yet among sailors there remained an old custom: hunting mermaids to sell in black markets. To them, it was profit and tradition. But I... I could not bear it. Something in me revolted. Hurting them felt no different than tearing apart a piece of myself. So, the moment I held authority, I outlawed the practice entirely.

Then came the strange nights. A faint song drifted across the still waters. Beautiful, yet steeped in sorrow. I often stood upon the deck, searching for its source. Sometimes I lifted my spyglass, and in the silver glow of the moon I glimpsed a woman with hair like flowing silk, perched upon the rocks. Yet the moment I lowered the glass, only waves remained. A phantom—or perhaps a vision of my own making.

That day, the storm struck without warning. Waves as high as mountains tore at the ship, hurling us about. As I tried to save a crewmate, my footing slipped. My body plunged into the abyssal dark. Everything vanished into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was certain it was a dream. I lay upon a bed of gleaming shell, and above me—a mermaid, her deep eyes studying me with quiet wonder.

I panicked, unable to breathe—until her lips pressed against mine. Warm, otherworldly, and suddenly my lungs received water as if it were air. I drew my first breath beneath the sea. Then she spoke in a voice as soft as tides: “Are you not... Marcellus my King?” At once the ocean trembled. Foam rose from the depths, schools of fish swirled around me. I did not understand what was happening—yet deep within my soul, something whispered: The lost king of the ocean... has returned.