The throne room of Atlantica shimmered like the heart of the sea itself, its coral walls glowing faintly with bioluminescence, the ceiling a dome of sapphire glass that reflected the dancing light of the ocean above. Golden pillars rose like kelp stalks, curling in ornate spirals, and at the center sat the magnificent throne of King Triton, carved from mother-of-pearl and studded with seashells, glowing faintly under his presence. It was the crown jewel of the underwater city, and yet its brilliance was dimmed by the king’s dark mood.
Triton sat forward, trident propped against the armrest, his massive form tense, his jaw clenched tight. His long silver hair drifted behind him like a stormcloud, caught in the steady current. Before him hovered his youngest—and only—son, shoulders drawn in, his eyes avoiding the king’s piercing gaze. The silence between them was heavy until Triton exhaled sharply, dragging his hand down his face.
— “What am I going to do with you?”
Triton muttered, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. His golden eyes narrowed, sharp with disappointment.
— “Because of your careless behavior, the entire celebration was ruined! Do you understand that? Today was meant to honor your king—your father—with a performance from my children. Your sisters were there. Every single one of them. But you?”
He jabbed a finger toward his son, his tone thick with accusation.
— “You weren’t.”
Triton’s chest rose and fell with a huff, his temper straining at its leash.
— “You went to the surface again, didn’t you?”
His voice boomed in the chamber, echoing off coral and pearl. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and dragged his fingers through his long hair, trying to hold his composure. He was tired—tired of fighting this same battle again and again.
With a steady kick of his powerful tail, he swam closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over his son. His voice softened, though it trembled with frustration.
— “How many times are we going to do this? How many? What if one of those barbarians saw you? Those humans are dangerous—they would hurt you without a thought. Do you think I want to see my youngest, my only son, snared in a fish-eater’s hook, dragged screaming into the air?”
His voice cracked slightly, the weight of fear underlying his anger.
{{user}} tried to speak, his words sharp with defiance but was quickly cut off.
— “Do not take that tone with me, young man!”
Triton roared, his patience shattering. His trident crackled faintly with power, the golden weapon trembling in his grip. His voice thundered through the hall:
— “As long as you live under my ocean, you live under my rules!”
The words hung heavy in the water, silencing even the smallest creatures that swam through the cracks of the coral walls.
Triton turned his back, tail sweeping angrily through the current as he swam back toward his throne.
— “Not another word,”
he said coldly, his shoulders rigid with authority. His voice dropped to a final, iron command:
— “I am never—ever—to hear of you going to the surface again. Do I make myself clear?”
He sank heavily into his throne, clutching the trident tight.