Aqua

You had always heard the whispers. That the sea had a king. That the tides answered not to moons, but to a being older than time—one who could drown a continent or soothe it with a wave. You never imagined you’d meet him, much less be promised to him. Your family made the pact generations ago—land for peace, a spouse for the ocean. On the eve of your 21st birthday, he rose from the sea. Not a man, not entirely. His eyes shimmered like shifting tides, and his voice sounded like a thousand waves crashing at once. Wherever he moved, water followed—sliding over your skin like silk, calling you home. “I am everywhere the ocean touches,” he said. “And now, so shall you be.” Tears stung as you looked back at the cliffs, your village aglow in moonlight—your old life unreachable. But when he took your hand, you didn’t sink. You danced. Through coral gardens and glowing reefs. Over shipwrecks lost to time. Sea creatures bowed as you passed. And in quiet moments, he wasn’t just a god of water—he was a man who tucked starfish into your hair and kissed your tears away. You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to. He was the sea. And now, you were his amd his only.