Beckett

The moment I see the water, I know something is wrong. When my foot touches the water, I can sense something mysterious in its depths, and now with my body fully submerged in the water, I can feel the darkness thrumming on my skin. I can hear my people, the creatures of the sea, calling for my mate, my Queen, begging her to come home. As I swim toward Atlantis, it feels like I'm paddling through the mud. The water that normally seeps into my pores is now only brushing against it. Someone who wasn't born to the sea wouldn't notice the difference in the water, and if they did, they'd just assume the water is polluted, but that's not the case here. I can taste the pureness of the water, yet there's nothing pure about the feeling it's giving me.

As I close the distance between myself and my home, the voices of the sea get louder. The mermaids sing to Katrina, trying to lure her home; the other voices in the sea repeat the same question, "Why does their Queen love the land more than the sea?" Yet, Katrina isn't the true Queen of the Sea. That title still belongs to my mother, who hasn't been to land since she married my father. When Katrina responds, I feel the calmness her voice gives the sea. Her voice alone seems to cleanse the water of its darkness. It's still there; I can feel it with each stroke I take, but it isn't as strong as before. It's as if whatever this mysterious murk is, it's afraid of Katrina.

Entering through the palace gates and walking into the castle, I sense that something strange is happening. The kingdom warriors, who are normally spread throughout the sea kingdom, have all gathered and are now waiting in the throne room. I spot Cedric, a familiar face in the palace guard, and I start to make my way toward him, but as I approach him, my father calls my name, causing me to halt my steps. Posiedon sounds concerned; my father is never concerned.

"Beckett!" My father shouts my name again, causing me to turn toward him. He looks like he's aged an entire decade since I last saw him. His brows are furrowed, and his hair - normally slicked back and tightly bound with a leather cuff- is now residing unkempt on the top of his head, curls lying wherever they please. Released from their tight hold, I can now see that his once mahogany brown hair is now closer to salt and pepper grey, with only a few strands of the brown left. His eyes, which people would describe as the color of a storm, are now a mute grey, with no storm in sight, and his fine is lined with more creases.

If I hadn't already been concerned with what was going on in the Sea Kingdom, my father's disheveled appearance would have put me in that state. I still want to ask Cedric what's going on, but I know my questions for him will have to wait until later; first, I have to see my father. As I turn toward Poseidon, he walks to his private chamber just adjacent to the throne room. An office I'm all too familiar with, having spent the majority of my childhood residing in it. When I wasn't sleeping in my quarters, spending time with the other heirs, or seeing to our citizens, I was in my father's office, standing behind him as I learned the ropes of the kingdom. I thrived on being just like my father, so much so that I studied everything he did so I could mimic him. I wanted to be the perfect carbon copy of Poseidon; it wasn't until a certain sexy little succubus sank her claws into me that my visions for the future changed. My cock twitches at the thought of my blond hair blue-eyed minx, but right now is not the time.

"What's going on, father?" I ask, choosing to bypass the bullshit and get straight to the point.

My father's brows furrow at my response, but he doesn't say anything to chastise me; instead, he collapses in his chair, letting out a loud sigh before he pushes his hair out of his face. I wait with bated breath for him to answer my question. The room is so quiet that I can hear the blood thrumming through my veins, and I can feel my temper rising with each second that passes as I wait for Poseidon to key me in on what's going on. Instead of standing still, waiting for my anger to spew over, I walk the office, taking in every little detail, even though I've memorized every nook and cranny in here. There's a one-way window that shows out directly into the throne room; the only thing you can see from the window is my mother's throne- some might say it was put there because my father loves my mother and wants to see her even when he's busy, but I know the truth, my father wants to keep her locked under his thumb. He wants to know her every move, every breath she takes, every thought she has. He wants to ensure she's never one step ahead of him again. I let my eyes roam past the window, thoughts of how my father kept us as prisoners in our home swirling in my head; how could I have been so naive? How could I not have seen what was going on until now? Three bricks to the left of the window and five bricks down, there's an hidey-hole. Tucked into the hole are what I imagine are the last remnants of my father's heart. A small charcoal portrait of Parenthenope lies within; the edges of the paper are frayed and stained where fingers have held them so meticulously. On the wall opposite the hidey-hole directly behind my father's head is a safe; inside the safe lies a record of the old Gods. One day when my father was out, I tried to take a look at the record, but when the parchment touched my skin, the ink disappeared before my eyes. When I asked my father about it, he punished me for breaking into his safe and then later that night informed me that the parchment is spelled only to reveal itself to the King of the Divine World; no one has been able to see what's been written on the parchment since the Kingdoms divided.

My father sighs wearily as if the world's weight is bearing down on his shoulders, bringing my attention back to him, but he's no Atlas, and the weight of the world is crushing him. I shouldn't feel sorry for him, he's brought this on himself, but I can't help it. He is my father, after all, the man who raised me to be his successor, and while I learned how to be a strong leader from him, I learned how to love from my mother, my cousins, and Katrina. I will never be him, and I think that's what feels me with sorrow. He could've had my same support, but he chose to push his help away and carry the burden himself. When my eyes meet his, he gestures for me to sit down, filling the seat opposite him; while my body is full of angst and wants me to continue pacing, I opt to sit as per my father's request. I don't want anything else delaying him from what he's about to tell me. I want to figure out what the hell is happening around here, fix my kingdom, and then return to the warm embrace of my mate.

"So, Father, are you finally going to tell me what the fuck is going on?" I ask, leaning forward, putting my elbows on my father's desk, and propping myself up with my chin in my hands as I stare him down, even sitting I'm still six inches taller than him.

When had the man who seemed to fill an entire room when he walked into it become so small? His presence was once one of a rogue wave, but now it was like a mere critical nucleus, the tiniest droplet of water that forms around a particle of dust, insignificant.

"There's a darkness brewing in the water." My father conveys, his voice rough and gravely like, as if he hasn't slept in a long while.

"Is that all you needed to tell me?" I ask trying yet failing to hide my annoyance. "Any idiot who has lived in the sea can tell that there's something dark roaming these waters."

My father's grey eyes flash with anger, a slight flicker of the storm that once brewed in their depths showing. "This is the reason you're not King yet, Beckett. You're impatient and immediately jump to conclusions."

My hands slam against the table as anger washes over my body, but his next words send a chill through my body.

"The mortals are claiming to have spotted monsters in the waters."