Llyr was annoyed—a feeling {{user}} seemed to conjure from him as effortlessly as the tides conjured waves. His scowl cut through the gloom of the deep as his sharks circled, their sleek forms cutting through the water in search of her.

When one finally signaled, he followed with a flick of his tail, descending into Mors—the sunken graveyard of human folly, where the bones of ships lay picked clean by time and teeth.

Of course you were here.

Of course you were where you shouldn’t be.

His shark led him to the wreck of a galleon, its ribs picked clean of flesh, its belly split open like a feast. And there—there—was the princess of the seven seas, your tail flicking idly as you bent over a rusted chest, your backside shamelessly on display as you rummaged through human trinkets.

Llyr paused.

Noble lady, his ass.

He crossed his arms, the bioluminescent markings along his shoulders and chest flaring in irritation. "What. Exactly. Are you doing?"

You jumped, your head smacking against the chest’s lid with a hollow clang. You whirled, clutching a tarnished crown to your chest like a guilty child caught stealing sweets.

"Llyr!" Your voice was too bright, too innocent. "I was just—"

"Trespassing in a forbidden ruin?" He arched a brow. "Disobeying direct orders?" His tail lashed as he named all your transgressions. "Risking your stupidly pretty neck on human debris?"

Llyr pinched the bridge of his nose.

Gods save him from curious mermaids.