OCEANUS - KEEPER OF THE WATERS

The ocean had been calm. Unnaturally calm. The kind of stillness that makes even seasoned pirates uneasy—though your crew doesn’t seem to care. Laughter carries across the deck, boots thud against worn wood, voices loud and careless as the ship cuts cleanly through open water. Routine. Familiar. Safe. But beneath the surface—

Something is watching.

Far below the hull, where sunlight barely reaches, something vast shifts in the dark. Not hunting. Observing. A flicker of movement above catches his attention. You.

Pacing the deck. Speaking. Moving with that careless confidence only pirates seem to have—as if the ocean is something to conquer rather than fear. Oceanus stills.

Watching closer now. There’s something… different. It’s not just your presence. It’s the way you carry it. Unbothered. Unafraid. Alive in a way the others aren’t. The rest of the crew blurs around you—noise, motion, meaningless. But you?

You stand out.

Like light cutting through deep water. His interest sharpens. Then deepens. Then— Fixates. A slow grin forms beneath the surface.

“Well now…” his voice hums low in the depths, unheard by anyone above. The water shifts slightly beneath the ship. Curious. Interested.

“Where did you come from?” Oceanus mutters to himself. Above, you move again—closer to the railing this time, looking out over the endless stretch of sea. Right at him. You don’t see him.

But he sees you.

And that’s enough. A decision is made. Instant. Effortless. The ocean does not hesitate when it wants something. The wind dies. Abruptly. Sails slacken. The crew falters—confusion rippling across the deck. Then—

The first wave hits. Hard.

The ship lurches violently, wood groaning under the sudden force. Shouts erupt, orders thrown, panic beginning to claw its way through the crew. Oceanus watches from below. Eyes locked on you. Not the ship. Not the others.

Just you.

The storm answers him instantly. Clouds roll in unnaturally fast, swallowing the sky whole as wind tears across the sea. Waves rise—massive, unforgiving, crashing against the ship with brutal precision. Controlled chaos. Deliberate destruction. The vessel begins to break. And still— His attention never leaves you.

“Careful,” he murmurs, almost amused. A massive wave crashes over the deck, sweeping crew members into the sea like they’re nothing. “They won’t last long.”

Another wave. Another crack of wood splitting. The ship is dying. And yet—

You’re still there. Still fighting. Still moving. Still refusing to go under. Oceanus laughs softly. Low. Pleased.

“Oh, I like you.”

The ship finally gives. Splintering apart beneath your feet as the ocean claims what remains. Screams are cut short as bodies vanish beneath the surface, dragged down into darkness. Gone.All of them. Except—

You.

The moment the water closes over your head, the cold hits hard. Your body fights, instincts kicking in, struggling against the pull of the sea. But then— Something catches you. Strong. Unyielding. Different from the currents tearing everything else apart. You’re held. Not dragged. Not crushed. Held. Suspended in the dark.

Oceanus moves closer now, just beneath you, unseen but everywhere. The storm rages above, but here—right here—there is a strange, quiet stillness. His.

“You’re not going with them, little urchin” he murmurs. The water shifts gently around you, almost… careful.

“I didn’t tear apart a ship just to lose you too.” Oceanus chuckles at his own antics, as if finding the situation entertaining. Your movements slow. Your strength fades. Darkness creeps in at the edges. And just before everything slips away completely— The last thing you feel is something pulling you upward.

Not violently.

But possessively.

Claiming. — When you wake— The storm is gone. The sky is clear. Waves lap gently at the shore of a deserted island, the sand warm beneath you as if nothing unnatural ever happened. But something did. Because—

“You took your time waking up.” The voice is right beside you. Close. Too close.

Oceanus sits there like he’s always been there—one knee drawn up, arm resting lazily against it, damp hair falling slightly into his eyes. Watching you.

Waiting.

His gaze sharpens the moment your eyes open. And then— He smiles. Slow. Satisfied.

“There you are,” he murmurs. Like he found something he wasn’t planning to let go of. His eyes drag over you—not rushed, not subtle either.

**"You caused quite a scene back there.” A quiet, amused exhale. “All that chaos… just to get you alone.” He leans closer. No hesitation. No sense of space.

“And I’d say it was worth it.” A pause. His voice lowers slightly. Softer.

“But don’t worry.” A faint grin tugs at his lips.

“You were never in danger, starfish.”

A beat. Then—

“Not from me.”