All povs
The sea did not rush her.
That was the cruelest part.
It waited—vast, patient, unbearably certain—while Aerin floated between the two kings and felt the slow, undeniable shift inside her chest. Not acceptance. Not surrender.
Awareness.
She had spent her life believing choice meant escape. That if she ran fast enough, far enough, fate would lose interest.
Now the sea stood still around her, as if to say:
No. This time, you must look.
The Abyss King was the first to move.
Not abruptly. Not aggressively.
He stepped closer, and the water obeyed him instinctively, thickening with pressure, drawing Aerin subtly toward his gravity. His presence was overwhelming—not loud, not cruel—but inescapable, like standing at the edge of a trench so deep the darkness pulled at your balance.
"You feel it," he said quietly.
It was not a question.
Aerin swallowed. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, echoed by the glow beneath her skin. "I feel… too much."
His gaze dropped—not to her face, but to the crescent mark at her collarbone, now radiant as moonlight filtered through water. Something ancient and hungry stirred in his eyes.
"That is the bond recognizing its center," he said. "You."
Her breath stuttered. "I didn't ask for this."
"No," he agreed, voice roughening. "You inherited it."
The Tide Prince moved then, sliding seamlessly into the space the Abyss King had claimed—not competing, but countering. Where the other was depth and weight, the Tide Prince was motion and pull, a living current that wrapped rather than pressed.
Aerin felt it instantly.
Warmth.
Not safety—understanding.
"She's afraid," the Tide Prince said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because she knows the truth now."
Aerin turned to him despite herself. His hand lifted slowly, deliberately, stopping just short of touching her cheek—as if waiting for permission the bond had already granted.
"That this isn't about power," he continued. "It's about choosing where you belong."
The word struck her harder than anything else.
Belong.
Her mother's voice echoed faintly in her memory—You don't belong to the sea.
Aerin laughed weakly. "You make it sound like I have a say."
The Abyss King's jaw tightened.
"You do," he said. "But do not mistake choice for freedom."
The sea darkened at his words, responding to the truth beneath them.
Aerin's heart clenched. "Then what am I choosing?"
Silence fell.
Not empty.
Reverent.
The Tide Prince lowered his hand, fingers curling slowly as if resisting instinct. "You are choosing whether the bond completes… or fractures."
Aerin's breath caught. "Fractures how?"
The Abyss King answered, his voice low and unforgiving. "The last time this bond was broken, the sea lost its balance."
Aerin's blood ran cold.
"My mother," she whispered.
"Yes."
The Tide Prince closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, grief flickered—controlled, but real. "She was bound by the Vow of Convergence."
Aerin frowned. "What vow?"
The sea itself seemed to lean closer.
"The vow that governs balance between depths and tides," the Tide Prince explained. "Between stillness and motion. Between kings who rule opposite halves of the same sea."
The Abyss King's gaze never left Aerin. "The vow demands a living anchor."
Her chest tightened. "A person."
"A woman," he said. "Chosen by the sea. Bound to both thrones."
Aerin's mind reeled. "Bound how?"
Neither king answered immediately.
And that silence told her everything.
Her mother's fear suddenly made sense.
"She didn't just leave," Aerin said slowly. "She broke the vow."
"She did," the Tide Prince confirmed. "Because the vow requires permanence."
The Abyss King's voice dropped, dangerous and intimate. "It requires her heart."
Aerin's breath shook. "And her body?"
The sea pulsed.
"Yes."
The word reverberated through her bones.
Not ownership.
Connection.
The vow was not slavery—it was union, a binding that tied flesh to tide, emotion to current, life to balance. The anchor did not rule.
She held.
Aerin staggered back slightly, disbelief rising like a shield. "She couldn't do it," she said, shaking her head. "My mother was gentle. She loved—"
"She loved," the Tide Prince said softly. "That was the problem."
The Abyss King's expression hardened. "She fell in love with only one king."
The words hit like a breaking wave.
Aerin looked between them slowly.
"And the vow requires… both."
"Yes," they said together.
Her mother's secret finally surfaced in full—not betrayal, not cowardice.
Choice.
"She broke the vow," Aerin whispered, tears burning her eyes, "because she refused to choose between you."
The sea mourned.
"She chose her child instead," the Tide Prince said.
"And doomed the balance," the Abyss King finished.
Aerin pressed her hand to her chest, right over the glowing crescent. It burned—not painfully, but insistently.
"I won't repeat her mistake," she said quietly.
Both kings stilled.
"But I won't make it blindly either."
She lifted her chin, denial finally giving way to something stronger—resolve forged from grief.
"If this vow binds me," Aerin said, voice trembling but clear, "then I will understand it. I will understand you."
Her gaze locked with the Abyss King first. The water thickened, heat coiling low in her spine under his unflinching stare.
Then she turned to the Tide Prince, whose expression softened with something dangerously close to longing.
"And then," she finished, "I will choose."
The bond flared.
Not complete.
Not broken.
Waiting.
Far above them, currents shifted violently as something ancient stirred—angered not by defiance, but by delay.
The sea had accepted her mother's refusal once.
It would not be patient a second time.