A little bit ago, merikurage and I were asked to participate in  talesofthedeep's Anthology - Sands of Time - where we had to contribute a tale involving a character's backstory. Well, whose story was better to tell than our own Prince Imriel's? 
So, here you have it... please enjoy!

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Imriel, the Prince of Inara, drummed his fingers idly against the grains of the rich mahogany wood of the table. It was hardly a surprise to anyone that he hated court meetings, and the Elders were beyond boring. They bickered amongst themselves for hours on end only to provide advice to his parents, the King and Queen, to make the final decision on whatever pressing issue they chose to waste their time; a decision he was sure his parents had already decided on before meeting with the Elders to begin with. And as with every other week, Imri was not looking forward to listening to whatever was currently threatening the fate of Inara.

And to make matters more unbearable, the Elders were late.

A soft disapproving noise caught his attention. Out of the the corner of her soft seafoam green eyes, the Queen of Inara glared daggers at him. Imri's drumming fingers froze in place before going slack, pressing into the table. His mother's eyes flicked away from him, silently approving of his obedience.

Since he had reached the age of maturity, Imriel had been required to come to these meetings, but the Elders were already in session and usually someone would have filled him in on the topic of the discussion. This one however, had been hastily set up, with a courier fetching him from the War Court, all but dragging him from his sparring match with Loch, the Captain of the Guard and his best friend. When Loch inquired as to the urgency and had tried to follow them, the courier advised that the Prince had been ordered away by the King.

Which meant it was serious.

And not what the Elders usually considered serious, seeing as they they were so often absorbed in the court nonsense that led them to believe everything was always a big deal.

No, this order came from his father, which only made Imriel even more nervous.

It took everything in Imriel's power to keep from drumming his fingers against the arm or picking at the wood of the chair, so instead he tried to focus his energies on anything but the fact that they were in stasis waiting for the Elders to arrive.

They awaited the Elder's arrival within their own council room, the quarters they used only when discussing matters of great importance, which again, Imri admitted to himself, made him nervous. Glancing up, he couldn't help but notice the room's wards set in ammonites, glittering at all points along the high, vaulted ceiling, cast as protection against eavesdroppers or their charms. Which was moot, Imri mused as a smirk played across his lips. Inara was eternally at peace, protected from war and strife while sitting at the bottom of the Ocean, thanks to the ancient enchantments of the Sea Fae.

The Prince again cast his eyes towards his mother. She sat with the perfect posture one could expect from the Queen, her autumn- colored hair twisted together in tight braids and pinned around the golden crown that sat upon her head. Her pale skin was hidden underneath the court gown of silver, so fine yet intricately woven with colorful beads that they bloomed like coral polyps across the bodice. It clung to her slender figure, accentuating her features like the glass fish that swam above the city. Long bell sleeves surrounded her hands as they rested in her lap, gentle and patient, as if they hadn't been waiting for near half a candlemark. As if she sensed his assessments, her eyes flicked to him, begging him for patience in a way that only a mother's eyes could.

His father, on the other hand...

The King of Inara sat as still as stone upon his throne, but his eyes were set ahead, waiting for the Elders to appear and take their seats. His face remained neutral, showing nothing as to what the meeting was about, nor he had not answered any of Imriel's questions upon his arrival. Instead, his father had gestured towards the chair beside his wife, and handed the young Prince his crown.

The crown of silver that was twisted like waves cresting on the ocean.

The crown he rarely, if ever, wore.

His father's hand that usually stroked his beard was instead holding a piece of parchment, and what was written on it was anyone's guess, but Imriel noticed how taunt his hands were. His caramel brown eyes, kind and typically playful, instead were serious. And that, honestly was what worried him the most. His father was rarely so serious.

The sound of the doors opening tore Imriel's attention away from his parents.

"Finally!" He growled exasperatedly, swinging in his seat as the three elders filed into the

room. Neither of his parents moved to greet them, though he ignored the soft noise his mother made in protest of his behavior. But Imriel ignored it. The wait was over. Now they could get this stupid meeting over...

Roan, Loch's father, and the Elder he knew best due to the fact that Loch was a War General - and Imriel's best friend, took the center seat. To his right, sat Brennan, a golden-haired selkie who had aged like a fine wine. Her features were sharp, her skin mostly free of wrinkles except the crow's feet near her eyes which spoke of the wisdom she had gained over the years. The third and final elder, Quinn, sat to Loch's left. Even though meetings were typically serious, Imri could always count on him to bring humor to the table. But today, his eyes were void of its sparkling laughter. Today, they were solemn, just like Brennan's and Roan's.

There was something in Roan's hand. Imri focused on it. A letter of some sort...

A sanguine seal stained the white letter. And even though it had been broken, Imri felt his breath catch as he recognized it.

The Realm. A letter from the Realm.

Some years before his birth, when his Grandparents were still the King and Queen of Inara -

When Inara was still on the surface, part of the great Water Kingdom, before the King and Queen had invoked the ancient magic that had sank Inara to the safety of the bottom of the ocean. They had invoked that magic to escape the control of the Realm.

Roan followed Imriel's gaze. He flicked open the letter.

"Another letter from the Realm," his father said quietly. It wasn't a question. A statement. To start the discussion.

Brennan nodded. "There is a Midsummer's Night Festival they are hosting. The royal family has been invited."

It wasn't the first time they had been invited. It didn't matter. Inara had broken away from the Realm's grasp. They couldn't reach them here. The magic that surrounded Inara, protected it from the Realm's grasp. There was only one way into Inara, the secret passageway in the Grotto. And even though only those who could breath underwater could make the journey, ancient runes protected the entrance. Only those who mean no ill will to Inara could enter. So far there hadn't been any visitors from the Realm, and Imri didn't expect there would be anytime soon.

Still, their letters seemed to always make find their way into the Elder's hands.

Imriel leaned back in the chair. "So why the meeting then? Ignore it like we always do. We have our own Midsummer's Night Festival to attend."

And Ember had spent hours painstakingly planning it. She had paraded flowers,

swatches of color, streamers, and other decorations through his room for the last month.

Roan, cleared his throat, dragging Imriel's attention back to him. "It is the Elder's suggestion that it is time for the Royal Family to attend."

Imriel almost knocked over his chair. His eyes darted to his parents who sat solemnly. The surprise that he felt was absent from his parent's face.

"The Realm is getting restless. Rumors that they are getting more powerful are sinking through the kelp to us," Brennan began.

"We put ourselves at a disadvantage," Roan continued. "What if they discover a way to break through Inara's defenses."

"They won't! They haven't in over 500 years!" Imriel spat. He looked to his parents again. The King and Queen of Inara. Both were stoic. Taking it in. They couldn't be seriously contemplating going!

Quinn didn't look at Imriel as he spoke. He looked to the King and Queen. "And what if they do discover a way to reach us? At that point, there will be no peace negotiations. There will only be conquest... And submission."

His parents turned to look at each other. Imriel watched them as unspoken words passed between them and not for the first time, Imriel wondered if it was due to the fact that they were a bonded pair... or because they had been together for so very long.

And when Imriel thought he would not be able to take the silence any longer, his father spoke, "We will go."

"But the festival," Imriel challenged. "Ember has been planning it..."

"You will host it in our absence," his mother said. It was as if it had all been decided in those few moments of silence.

The Elders were nodding.

Imriel stood, fury coursing through him. He wanted to fight. To tell him there was no way in HELL he was staying, but he knew the look on his parents' faces. And the Elders has already accepted it. Five against 1.

Imriel stormed out of the room, words of protest and anger on the tip of his tongue. And like a pertinent child, he let the doors slam behind him, his final protest against being left behind.

The Queen sighed, watching her son go, feeling her heart break for him. He was so young and her dreams had been haunted lately. Haunted by a coming war that he would face.

"It... could be a trap," Roan said quietly. The words that they all knew.

"And that is why Imriel must stay behind," The King, her bondmate, answered. "And if something is to happen, you must guide him against the coming War."

His parents left early the next day, needing the time to travel to the Realm. Imriel had followed them down the ancient stone tunnel to the grotto, the pristine sea blue of the Inarian sea beckoning him as he stood in front of the pool. The ancient pool that led to the open ocean. He hadn't spoken to them again. Hadn't bothered arguing. But when the morning approached, he found himself in the grotto to wish them farewell. There were hugs and kisses bestowed upon him, their only child, and as they let their skins surround them, changing their human-like bodies into deep brown seals that dove into the cold salty sea, Imriel tried to shake off the dread that sunk into his heart.

"No, no- the streamers are supposed to hang starting from over there!"

The sounds of barked orders resounded through the palace's main ball room, and Imriel observed the hustle and bustle of servants and workers rushing to and fro, carrying paper lanterns, table clothes, and anything else one could imagine they would need for the grandest celebration this side of Inara. And in the middle of it all, slim and delicate wearing her cropped skin-dress, was Ember.

Ember, next to Loch, was Imri's closest friend. There were even rumors that they were to be married as he still had yet to find his bondmate, but he brushed them aside as he did with all other political items.

Ember was Ember, and always would be.

Which was why he couldn't help but smile as he watched her order about the workers as they balanced on ladders, leaning precariously against the ballroom's wall, barely hanging on as they attempted to appease the young Selkie female shouting at them.

She must have heard him approach, for she turned in his direction, and suddenly the stern director became the bubbly female he had always known. "Irmi!" she squealed, and her dark eyes shone as she saw him, and the blond ringlets of her loose hair sprung out behind her as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around the Prince's neck.

Irmiel wrapped his arms around the female as she held him close, laughing softly as she greeted him. Maybe it was because of his parents' recent departure, but he held her close - maybe closer than he should have - and was in no rush to let her go.

Ember caught on, slowly pulling herself away to look up at him. "Something's bothering you," she observed. Nothing got by Ember.

He smiled slightly, meeting her gaze. "I'm just bothered that my parents won't be here to see the wonderful job you've done for Midsummer."

Ember perked a brow at his admission. "Is that all?"

Nothing got by Ember.

So Imri merely shook his head, dismissing the inquiry. It was neither the time nor the place to voice his concerns about his parents' trip to the Realm. Not when Midsummer was upon them, and Imriel was expected to host in their stead. And definitely not when Ember had truly gone out of her way in preparing for this year's celebration.

The ballroom was dancing with streamers and paper lanterns in reds and oranges and yellows, already softly lit to replicate the setting sun many in Inara hardly ever saw. There were banquet tables lining almost every wall, waiting for the evening's feast and desserts and drink. The center of the room remained empty, where partygoers would dance the night away to well-known Inarian folk songs and slower, well-loved ballands.

It was a night for happiness and friendship and love...

So why did Imriel feel so miserable?

"Imri?" Ember asked softly, snapping him out of his thoughtful reverie. He gave her a reassuring smile as he wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders.

"So, what lucky Selkie male is going to be attending the festivities with you on his arm tonight?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Ember, in turn, pinched his side and pushed him away playfully, and Imri could not ignore the blush that fell upon her cheeks. Because Imri already knew Ember would not attend the party with anyone tonight, just a Imri would not be bringing anyone either.

"You saw your parents off then?" Ember asked, her voice low as they continued their walk around the ballroom.

Sighing, the young Prince nodded. "I have a bad feeling, though..."

"As well you should," Ember agreed. "Fear of the surface and the Realm has been instilled into our brains since we were pups!"

Imri's features darkened. "It doesn't help when the mother of one of your closest friends is the basis for those stories."

Ember frowned herself and nodded silently. For it was Roan's bondmate, Loch's mother, who had been taken and killed by the humans on the surface, and since any unnecessary travel was strictly frowned upon, even despite the curse that haunted his people. Irmiel couldn't imagine losing a parent in such a way, and should both of them be taken...

"No! What are you doing?"

Ember's shouting at the unexpecting servant laying the wrong colored tablecloth on the wrong table had Imri realizing it was the ideal time to depart, so with a gentle kiss to her temple and the promise of seeing her that evening, he left the female Selkie to barking orders like the Queen she wished and expected to be.

The day passed by fine enough. Imriel was expected to attend to a few matters his parents had asked him to complete in their absence, and though he was not entirely fond of matters of the court, he would do anything his parents asked of him.

Including staying behind for the Midsummer celebration while they visited the Realm.

He scowled at his reflection in the looking glass within his personal quarters as he readied himself for the event later that evening. As Prince and host, he was expected to wear his royal best, which consisted of tight leather pants worn under a white embroidered jacket with the red and orange accepts of Midsummer. Upon his shoulders was clipped a red cap to mate the jacket's detail, all finished by a black leather belt around his waist and black boots to his knees.

He hated dressing to play the part of Prince, but he truly had no other options.

He was about to place his crown upon his head when the sound of his bedroom door opening without announcement took his attention away from the looking glass.

"Knock, knock!" Ember announced as she opened the door, her knuckles tapping on the wood in time as she did so. She wore a flowing gown of sunset orange which brought out the flush of her cheeks and the gold in her hair draped over her shoulder.

"What if I was naked? What would you have done then?" Imriel smiled at her through the mirror.

"Gaped and gawked," she smiled in response. "How came you aren't done yet?"

"Not all of us can bribe Johanna into helping us dress every time there's a special occasion."

"No, just us pretty ones with the long hair she loves to play with," she winked.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he returned his attentions to his reflection within the looking glass, crown still in hand. He again moved to place it upon his head, but Ember rushed towards him in protest.

"Wait- no," she insisted, stepping up to him and taking the crown out of his grasp before he could protest. He opened his mouth in question, but she merely smiled. "Let me."

Stepping so close that their bodies were almost touching, Ember perched herself upon her tiptoes and, with delicate hands, placed the silver crown upon her Prince's head. Imirel hadn't realized he was holding his breath until she returned her feet to the ground and placed her hands upon his shoulders as she met his gaze.

"There," she said softly, her breath warm against the skin of his face. "Now you're ready for the party."

"I'm sure I could have done that myself," he assured her, but his voice remained equally as soft.

"Perhaps," she agreed. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this." And she leaned up again to brush her lips against Imri's in a delicate kiss.

"Ember," he murmured against her lips, partially in protest, partially in warning. "We can't..."

Their relationship was one of close friendship, regardless of what their parents wished for them and the future of Inara. Imriel, especially, was in no rush to escalate his relationship with Ember, though it seemed the female before him had other ideas.

"Please, Imri?" she almost pleaded, as she laced her fingers through his dark hair, bringing his lips closer to deepen the kiss.

He wanted to challenge her again- to let her know this wasn't appropriate- but there was something in the way she asked, in the feeling of her body so close to his...

His hands were about to rest on her hips, he was about to give in to her wishes, when the door to his room slammed open, and in the doorway stood Loch, two palace guards... and a guard from his parents' own personal escort.

"LOCH!" Ember snarled. But something was wrong. Why were they here?

Pushing Ember aside, Imriel took a step forward, his eyes focused on his best friend, ignoring the surprised glance his Captain passed between he and Ember.

"What is it, Loch?" he inquired immediately. They wouldn't have gone to such lengths to make their presence be known if there wasn't something urgently wrong.

"It's your parents," his friend was able to get out before Imriel pushed past them, running down the hallway. Shouts for him to wait and stop followed, but Imri ignored them as he hurried, full-speed, around the corners and down flights of stairs as he made his way to Inara's only entrance.

Palace guards stood before the entryway to the grotto, but Imri paid them no mind as he rushed past, pushing them out of the way as they tried to delay his progress.

Something had happened to his parents, and he needed to get to them.

Immediately.

He took the stairs down to the grotto two at a time until he was at the door that led to the pool. It was closed, but he didn't hesitate- opening, he entered the cavern, and-

It was covered.

The only entrance into and out of the city was closed.

"No..."

He approached it carefully. There had to be some mistake.

The only reason the city of Inara would be on lock-down would be if there was a direct threat...

Or the death of a member of the royal family.

"No!" he screamed this time as he collapsed upon the solid wooden door, locked in place to keep the Selkie within safe and the possible threats out. He pounded with his fists over and over again. "No, no, no!"

"Imriel..."

Loch.

He had a feeling they would follow him, but he didn't care. Imri leaned his head on the solid wood, fighting the tears that wanted to escape his eyes.

"There was an ambush," his friend informed him quietly, carefully. "They had just arrived at the surface and..."

"I don't want to hear it," Imri growled.

"Imriel," Loch tried again.

A flourish of skirts swooshed around him as Ember dropped down beside Imri, gathering him into her arms. Imriel tried to pull away, but she held firm.

Forcing him to hear out Loch.

"I'm so sorry, Imriel. They are gone."

An animal's howl ripped through the grotto, echoing as it reverberated against the ancient stones around him. Why couldn't he breathe? His chest was on fire. But it was only then he realized that the heart-wrenching howl was not escaping some animals throat but his.

"Leave," Ember hissed, and there was no argument, only the sound of retreating footsteps. But they weren't alone. And as Imri turned to bury his face in Ember's chest, he felt the crushing strength of Loch's arm enclose around them both. They were gone. Gone. What did that word even mean? He couldn't even wrap his mind around it. There would be time for that. Time for action. For vengeance. But for now, now he clung to the grief that wracked his body, letting the soft shhing noise that Ember kept making surrounded him, even as he felt her own warm tears, falling into his hair.

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ARMS OF THE OCEAN will be published with The Parliament House in Fall 2020!