1 MONTH HAD GONE BY SINCE ARTHUR'S DEPARTURE.
It was a mandatory breakfast hour in the Royal Family's dining hall, where the first Prince's seat remained empty. His titles, A.P., were all that remained. Artizea sat quietly, absently pushing her food around with her fork. Elaine, normally full of life, was unusually subdued. Even Eugene, who would typically be absent in body, seemed somewhat lost in thought. Their father, the king, hadn't said a word, not for lack of trying; simply, there had been no spirit for conversation.
Rhyssand, watching silently, sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair.
"This is getting depressing. He is not dead, you know."
Artizea shot him a glare. "We know that, Rhys."
He sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Then act like it. He'll be back." He hoped.
Eugene rested his chin on his hand. "But it's different this time. He's not just gone for a mission. He's… living a different life. Away from us."
Elaine groaned and slumped in her seat. "Ugh!"
At that moment, Arthuria stalked in, holding a letter in her hands. "Gil, a word."
It wasn't a question. When they were out of earshot in his study. She placed it gently in front of him. "It's from Arthur. Specifically to You"
His crimson eyes locked on the envelope.
Arthuria watched him carefully. "He wanted to know if you died while he was away, because he hasn't heard from you."
A beat of silence, then he sighed heavily, rubbing his temple.
Arthuria crossed her arms, unwavering. "Gilgamesh Pendragon. I know you never had any good relationship with your father, but you mustn't let that affect your relationship with Arthur. He is your son, Gil. You sent more letters to William, and he knows it."
"That is because he is not my son," he blurted out. "It is easier to write to someone he does not share my blood, or my face, I never—' He didn't look up. "I never had to write to him…because he was always here, I will reply, Arthuria. I just need to gather my thoughts on what I wish to say to my boy, who has turned a man faster than I thought he would, and it doesn't help that he can read the true essence of someone even through a sheet of paper. I have not a clue who thought him that skull, I surely didn't."
"That is not good enough," she sighed. "Must I repeat myself…"
Finally, he met her gaze.
She softened her gaze. "He's solid on the outside, but just like you, he has your heart. You would do well to remember that." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Gilgamesh alone with his thoughts.
For a long time, he simply stared at the letter.
Then, with a deep breath, he picked up his pen and began to write.
Son....
The steady beat of wings echoed through the air as Fin soared towards the King of the Seas. Arthur stood on deck, watching the bird's familiar figure approach. His heart pounded.
Is it from him?
The moment Fin landed, Arthur grabbed the letter straight from his talons, not even waiting for a response. He ripped it open, eyes scanning the handwriting. Then, his shoulders sagged. It wasn't from his father, but Artizea and Rhyssand
Fin tilted his head. "I was going to answer you, but I see you figured it out yourself."
Arthur exhaled heavily, a scoff showing his irritation. "Tsk." But, despite his initial disappointment, he couldn't help but smirk as he read through.
"BrotherThe palace is still standing. No need to return. Yet! I don't know why I still call you big brother even thou I'm older by a year. I don't know, I guess you were right, age doesn't have anything to do with it. I hope you're well—"We both know you well. Now tell me, have you rocked the boat yet?Ignore Rhyssand.Fine then, I'll write my letter, since you can't share!Ugh, Give The crew our love—and cease our condolences.Your loving Sister and Best brother-in-lawArtizea PendragonRhyssand Pendragon
Arthur let out a genuine laugh. Even if his father's letter hadn't arrived, His spirit had momentarily lifted.
Fin fluffed his feathers. "See? It's not all bad."
He sighed, rolling the letter back up and tucking it away. "Same time next week?" he asked dryly.
Fin huffed, but extended his claw expectantly. "You're forgetting something, young man."
Arthur rolled his eyes and handed the bird an apple seed. Fin gave a satisfied chirp before taking off into the sky. As Arthur watched him disappear into the horizon, the sea stretched endlessly before them, a vast canvas of blues and silvers reflecting the morning sun. The ship moved steadily over the waves, its sails catching the wind with practiced ease.He stood at the bow, hands braced against the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon. The salty breeze ruffled his golden hair, and for the first time in his life, he felt… weightless. No crown. No court. No duties beyond keeping himself and his crew alive. It was freedom, and yet—
"You're scowling again," a voice rang from behind him, laced with amusement.
Cesealia.
He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I'm not scowling."
She stepped beside him, resting her arms on the railing. "You are."
He huffed. "Fine. Maybe a little."
She smiled. "I get it, you know," she said, staring out at the waves. "You spent your whole life looking out for your family, the kingdom, everyone. But out here… It's just you and the sea."
He glanced at her. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
She shrugged. "That depends on you, Just Arthur."
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't used to this— stillness. She was right, all his life he had been Arthur Pendragon, attached to his twin sister, Artizea, until a month ago. The land prince, the warrior, the Protector, and the new Holder of Excalibur, was now…Just Arthur, with the vast ocean before him and nothing to command but the wind and the sails, he felt his purpose was lost, once more.
Cesealia nudged him. "You're allowed to enjoy this, you know. You don't have to be Arthur Pendragon, Protector of the Realm, all the time."
He smirked. "Who am I supposed to be then?"
She turned fully to him, tilting her head. "Just Arthur."
His smirk softened. He stared at her for a moment longer before chuckling.
"That does have a nice ring to it."
The sound of footsteps on the deck interrupted their moment.
One of the crew members jogged over, Hawthorne. The second in command.
"Captain. Lady Cesealia," he greeted with a nod. "Everything looks to be in order. What's our heading?"
Arthur's instincts as a leader kicked in immediately.
He glanced at the map, weighing their options.
They had all the time in the world to explore every part of these seas.
Then—a strong breeze. An idea.
His grin was sharp, determined. "Sails up. Let's see how fast she can go."
Hawthorne nodded, excitement flashing in his eyes, before jogging back to his men.
Cesealia observed him, "So you can smile."
He blinked. "What?"
"You like this." She crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. "You just don't wish to admit about much you don't love it as much as you thought you would."
He considered her words; his chest felt lighter since the moment they set sail. Maybe she was right, though, or maybe he was meant to be here. He reached for her hand; it was warm and steady.
"Come on," he said, pulling her toward the helm. "DROP THE SOIL!" he yelled.
"SIR!"
"You might want to hold onto something," Arthur whispered.
She gripped his arm in the same moment, then the sails dropped, and the ship lurched forward. The wind roared, filling the sails to their fullest. The Pendragon crew let out a chorus of excited shouts.
"I'M FLYING!"
"WOAH!"
Arthur chuckled, exhilarated. "Does this answer your question?"
Cesealia gazed at him. He had Sun-kissed skin, wind-tousled hair, and eyes gleaming with thrill. He had never looked more handsome. She thought. A smile tugged at her lips. Then, with all the breath in her lungs, she yelled along with the crew— "FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
The crew roared, cheering, laughing as The King of the Seas cut through the waters, sailing toward the horizon. For now, Arthur. Just Arthur. Embraced the sea as his new challenge.
A new contender.
The ocean was a dark abyss, swallowing everything in its path. And she was next. Her body moved on pure instinct.
swim, swim, faster—don't stop.
The water behind her churned. A vast shadow lurched forward, a force more than a creature, a nightmare with teeth. And it wanted blood. She pushed herself harder, desperate, her lungs burning from the effort. The monster was too fast. It was gaining. Then—
BOOM.
BOOM.
A cannon blast shook the sea. Another. A shadow even larger than the beast fell over her. A ship. Her vision blurred as a wave crashed against her, sending her tumbling. The Beast roared as another blast struck its side. Injured, it thrashed, churning the water into a spiraling vortex of blood and fury. Then it was gone. The monster retreated into the deep. And she barely had a moment to breathe before something else wrapped around her.
A net.
She gasped as it tightened, pulling her up, up, up—Until her body broke through the surface. She coughed, sputtering, the sharp sting of salt in her lungs as the net hit the deck of the ship with a thud. Heavy boots stomped toward her. A man—a captain—stood above her.
His dark robes billowed in the sea breeze. His golden jewelry caught the sunlight, gleaming against his tanned skin. He knelt, looking her over with a slow, lazy smirk. "My, my… aren't you a beauty."
She trembled as her tail glowed—the curse of the sun forcing her transformation. Scales vanished. Flesh and legs took their place. She gasped, trying to push herself up—but failed.
The captain tilted his head, and his hand extended toward her in mock kindness. "My dear, you have nothing to fear from me."
Her breath hitched. Hesitantly, she reached out. The moment her fingers brushed his palm, CLANK. Cold iron snapped around her wrists. Her heart stopped. She looked at him in horrified confusion.
"The King, however…" he murmured, tightening the chains, "You should fear what he will do to your lovely, delicate skin."
She shook her head. No. No, no, no. Her lips quivered. "Please—" she managed.
"Ah, she speaks." He ignored her. "Tie her to the mast."
"Aye, Captain."
Hands grabbed her, dragging her backward. "Wait—!" She struggled, twisting in their grip. "The sun—"
The captain chuckled as his men fastened the chains against the mast, the burning sun piercing through the sails.
"Will do wonders for your paleness," he mused, leaning in close, his breath hot against her ear. "The King has a taste for tan, after all. And until we get there," he continued, stepping back, watching as she squirmed helplessly against the binds, "For now, you will serve as motivation for my crew."
Her cries ripped through the deck.