Triton
She’s mine.
Lucy is mine.
And not just for a few hours. She’s mine to keep. It is taking every bit of self control I have to play the courteous host and allow her to acclimate to her new environment. With her teasing, arch comments about knowing what beds are for, I find myself having to fight my base impulses all the more.
Lucy is beautiful beyond compare. She is a delicate little morsel of humanity trapped in my realm. I have to remember that she is afraid. What is happening outside these waters is unprecedented, but I have to admit that I am not concerned about the minions of Earth. Their attack is impetuous and bold, but it is not surprising to me. Humans have been turning on gods since humans and gods were created.
“Your room has a bed,” she says when I open the doors to show her my adjoining room.
“It does,” I agree.
“Do you take your sea elves there?”
She asks the question archly, boldly. I wonder if she is trying to shock me or impress me with her carnal knowledge.
I do not know how to answer, and so I choose not to. Helios is a very old friend. He has trusted me with his daughter. I am going to let at least ten minutes pass before giving into the urge to seduce and deflower her.
“I have business of many kinds,” I tell her, avoiding her question entirely. “And it often takes up much of my day, such as the days are down here. But I am going to give you free rein of the castle and its surrounds. Nobody will harm you here, but outside the boundaries of the city there are predatory beasts. Sharks, giant squid, leviathan octopuses, that sort of thing. You would do well to avoid them.”
“Good tip,” she says, trying for a smile.
I know she isn’t happy. Her thoughts are above the waves. But I plan to distract her. She is a princess, and princesses are well known for their fairly simple likes and dislikes.
“There will be a banquet in your honor tonight,” I tell her. “There are many lords and ladies excited to meet you. You are already very popular in my realm.”
“I am?” Her eyes light up upon hearing that.
“Yes,” I tell her. I do not mention that she is popular because I have decreed her to be so.
“That sounds like it could be nice.”
“It will be.”
4
Triton
I have gathered the glittering youth of Undersea to join me at the palace. These are the ones who have the most in common with Lucy. They are the sons and daughters of the nobility, well bred, spoiled, and easily distracted, as I am hoping she will prove to be.
The energy in my palace is usually more sedate, but I am enjoying this shift. New blood is essential for a healthy society. Sooner or later, the young people arriving now in their finest jewels will be the courtiers, lords, and ladies of my realm. This gathering therefore serves a double purpose. It will set Lucy at ease and allow me to pick out those who might be suitable for future positions of influence.
Lucy is by my side, sitting in the chair usually reserved for the queen or princess regent. She does not know this, but her seat has remained empty for a great many years.
She is more shy than I thought she would be. After seeing her descend the stairs naked at her birthday party, I was expecting a display of extroversion at the very least. Instead, she barely speaks to anyone. She picks at her food, pretends to sip her wine, and is thoroughly distracted.
Young lady Ardwen is passing by and attempts to make conversation.
“So you’re a princess of the land?”
“Yes,” Lucy says, giving her a monosyllabic answer.
“I like your hair.”
“Thank you,” Lucy says stiffly. “I like your….” She lets her eyes drift over Ardwen a full minute past what would be a polite pause. “…bangles.”
I am beginning to wonder if this wasn’t a mistake. Too much too soon, not so much a welcome and necessary distraction as being thrown in at the deep end.
“Here,” I nudge my glass of coral wine toward her. “You may have a little of this.”
She looks at it askance, then lifts the chalice to her mouth and sniffs it. I assume she is going to reject it, but a moment later, it is gone, the entirety of the vessel poured down her delicate throat.
“Tasty,” she decrees in that elegant way she has. Lucy is exceptionally well bred. Helios’ godly essence mixes well with human DNA. She has more than a little of her father in her. With just one glass of wine inside her, she begins to glow, both literally and socially.
She turns to the young mermaid to her right, and initiates a conversation. The mermaid’s name is Esel, and her mother is the keeper of the treasury. I chose to sit Esel there for a reason, she’s a sensible young woman and I thought she would provide some stability for Lucy.
“What is it like having a tail?”
Esel looks at her, thinks for a moment, and answers the question with a question of her own. “What is it like having legs?”
Lucy considers that question for a long moment before replying with one of her own. “What’s it like breathing out of your butt?”
“What is it like talking out of yours?”
Lucy’s first courtly conversation is not going well. She has not been trained in the art of fine conversation, and that is painfully obvious. She asks questions which are too direct, borderline insulting, and Esel has not spent enough time at court to learn how to deflect them in a charming manner. What I thought would be a good match is quickly turning into a disaster.
“Esel, enough,” I say. Esel should know better than to be rude to Lucy. Even if she is young, she knows better than to return Lucy’s innocent rudeness with rudeness of her own.
“My apologies, your highness,” Esel says smoothly and glibly. “I did not realize that the two legs would be so uneducated.”
Two legs is an insult which I am surprised to hear Esel use. It is coarse language which belongs in a backwater bar, not the castle. I think perhaps the wine has been flowing a little too freely tonight already.
“Do not forget, I am also a two legs,” I remind Esel.
Those few words make the little mermaid crumble. “I did not mean to cause offense, your highness,” she stammers, clearly having forgotten that pertinent fact. “I mean a two legs from the dry lands. A proper two legs. A human one.”
“We eat your kind,” Lucy says. “I’ve seen Ragnar descale and…”
“Enough,” I growl.
Esel is staring at Lucy in horror, and Lucy is now looking particularly pleased with herself for having upset Esel. I understand the urge for her to get her own back, but references to what amounts to cannibalism cannot be tolerated at a dinner party.
“May I be excused, your majesty?” Esel makes the request very politely, and I grant her the wish.
“You have to be more diplomatic,” I say to Lucy.
“I don't have to be anything. I’m a prisoner here. And she insulted me.”
“How many prisoners have banquets thrown in their honor?”
“At least one,” Lucy replies pertly. “Me.”
“You are not a prisoner. You are an honored guest, but if you cannot behave in a civilized way and make polite conversation with the guests, then you may retire to your room.”