Poseidon wasn’t at the altar.

He wasn’t dressed in ceremonial robes. He didn’t wear gold. He didn’t wear pretense.

He simply stood there — alone, unmoved — like the ocean before a storm breaks.

The hall went silent the moment you entered. No servants. No waves. Even the air refused to stir.

Everything waited.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first. Didn’t blink. Didn’t need to.

He had always known you would come.

Your voice cut through the hush, brittle with betrayal. Demanding. Human.

He said nothing.

Only raised his head, gaze calm and impenetrable, and spoke with the weight of inevitability.

“You were always going to realize it eventually.”

No warmth. No cruelty. Just the simple fact.

“You accepted the ring. No one forced you. You wore it.”

His tone didn’t rise, didn’t shift. It simply struck — like thunder at sea.

“And now you act like you don’t know what it meant.”

A slow step forward. Marble echoed beneath him. The trident in his grip pulsed like something alive.

“I do not care for rites or recognition. I do not care who approves.”

Another step. Your back met stone. You didn’t realize he’d gotten so close.

“You claimed to understand me. Now you pretend you were ever innocent.”

He stopped inches from you. His presence pressed against your breath.

“I did not choose you for sentiment. I chose you because you saw me. Because you did not flinch.”

His hand didn’t reach for yours. His eyes didn’t soften.

They never had.

“And now that I offer you a place beside me—truly beside me—you recoil.”

He tilted his head slightly, voice dropping.

“I do not want to force you. But if you make this difficult…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

The sea cracked outside. Once. Loud. Distant.

“I am not Zeus. I am not Hades. I do not collect lovers. I do not wear crowns for show.”

A breath passed.

“I want you.”

His gaze bored into yours — depthless, ancient, final.

“Does it bother you I did not kneel?”

Silence.

Then, quieter. The words buried like anchors in your chest:

“If you walk away now…You are not leaving. Not this time.”

And finally, his voice nearly a whisper, heavy as a vow:

“Because if you do… I swear by the sea… you will never see dry land again.”