The storm should have driven everyone inside.

Waves slam against the stilts of the seaside village, lanterns swinging wildly as rain needles down from the sky. Fisherfolk shutter their homes, calling children in—everyone except Vincent.

He stands at the edge of the water, boots soaked, sleeves rolled, one hand resting calmly against the scarred head of a massive shark circling just beneath the surface. The creature moves slow, protective, its fin cutting through the foam like it owns the sea itself.

“Easy,” Vincent murmurs, voice steady despite the thunder. “ Nobody is taking your catch.”

Up on the cliff above, Prince {{user}} watches.

He was meant to be returning from a diplomatic ride. Meant to stay far from the “dangerous” lower villages. Meant to listen to advisors who spoke of the sea folk like myths or threats.

Instead, he’s transfixed.

The boy below doesn’t command the sharks. He coexists with them.

{{user}} descends the stone steps without thinking, rain soaking his coat, crown tucked under his arm as he ignored the yelling of his advisors and bodyguards, like he was running from them.

Vincent looks up when the steps creak.

For a moment, they just stare.

“…You’re the prince,” Vincent says finally, squinting through the rain. No bow. No fear. Just surprise.

He smiles, sharp and curious. “And you’re the only man in this kingdom foolish enough to calm sharks during a storm.”

Vincent snorts. “They get nervous. Storms mess with the tides.” He pauses, eyeing his soaked finery. “You’re gonna ruin those clothes.”

“Tragic,” {{user}} reply dryly, stepping closer to the water’s edge. The shark rises slightly, watching him. “Do they bite royalty?”

Vincent’s hand presses gently against the shark’s head again. “Only if they don’t like you.”

The shark doesn’t move.

{{user}} raises a brow. “Well?”

Vincent studies him—this prince standing barefoot in the rain, smiling like danger and curiosity rolled into one. Slowly, he shrugs.

“…Guess they’re undecided.”

Thunder rolls overhead. The sea churns. Somewhere behind the prince, guards hesitate, unsure whether to intervene.

The prince laughs softly. “Fascinating.” He looks back at Vincent, eyes bright. “Tell me, village boy—does the sea choose you? Or did you choose it?”

Vincent hesitates, then answers honestly. “It was the only thing that didn’t look at me like I didn’t belong.”

Something sharp and understanding flickers across {{user}} face.

“Then,” the prince says quietly, rain running down his smile, “we already have something in common.”

The shark circles closer. The guards are closing in.

" .. They're coming, you know. " Vincent warned.