How to Accidentally Fall for Someone Your Kingdom Is Colonizing

"BWAHAHAHA!" Aegir's laughter erupts. He clearly doesn't bother to hold it in anymore.

This is exactly why I didn't want him to know. I knew he would instantly find this hilarious, which would lessen my chances of getting him to help me seriously. He has a tendency to let something that interests him play out—even if it leads to catastrophe—just to see where it goes.

"I didn't expect you to figure it out so quickly," I say. It's not like it was an easy guess. Plenty of Elven nobles fit the bill.

"Who else in our generation has a resume like his?" Aegir grins. "Did I smack him too hard last Friday? Oh, Neptune, permanent damage! BWAHAHAHA! I need to see Muiren's reaction to this." He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. Oh, so that is the reason—'our generation.' That really is the only option if his mind went there first.

"Stop laughing—it's not Faelan."

His grin falters. "Wait... don't tell me..."

I swallow hard and manage to say, "A little help here?"

Aegir's grin fades as he leans back. "I trust Uncle Ronan... He wouldn't do that... right?" There's hesitation in his tone, something I'm not used to hearing from him. That is good news for me, at least he will start to take this as a grave matter.

"You should know better than that," I shot back. "There's a reason the Aitrionachs handle diplomacy."

Aegir shrugs. "Yeah, well, they're good at it. But Uncle's as stubborn as a rock. He probably wouldn't even entertain the idea."

"He didn't throw away the letter, Aegir." I feel my throat tighten. "He's considering it."

"Strategically, it's the perfect match."

"Not even going to sugarcoat it, huh?"

"Do I need to?"

"Ouch! My life is at stake here, and you're just adding salt to my wounds." I take a deep breath. "But… you agree to help?"

"I'll be there with you."

"Well, that's something, at least."

Which is why I now find myself sitting here with Aegir in front of my dad. Aegir remains silent and useless, just sitting there looking pretty. True to his word, he has not, in fact, started to help with anything other than just being here. I thought he would at least try to sell my case. But nope.

I meet my father's stern gaze. Oh boy, it feels like it could silently bend and fold iron. I've insisted that I want to learn and explore the world, but it hasn't shaken my father at all.

Granted, I don't have any reason except curiosity.

"The Dwarf realm is closer," my father says, his entire demeanor dismissive.

"Yeah, but the Human world is harder to access. Not all elves have that privilege," I counter.

"If you want to go to the Human realm, you must command the sea. Then, and only then, will I allow it," he declares, and it seems like it's his final word. Stubborn as a rock doesn't cut it. He's an immovable mountain.

"But that's impossi—"

"Three days. If you fail, you'll stay here and meet your suitor."

"NO!" I blurt out, a knot twisting in my stomach, and my breath quickens. That is not going to happen. Over my dead body.

"I've been lenient with you, but Thalassin's glory comes first," he says.

"Having two Marquesses isn't enough, it seems," Aegir quips. Finally, finally, he's talking.

"It could be more," my father replied curtly before rising. "Seems like you've forgotten that yours cannot be passed down." He turns and leaves the room.

The sound of the door shutting is deafening, to say the least. Not in the literal sense, but it kind of seals the deal for what my life's course will be. I stare at the ceiling, trying not to cry, drown in despair, or plunge into the depths of hopelessness.

"That's cold," Aegir remarks, smiling, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"I've seen worse," I reply, trying to sound tougher than I feel. Part of me wants to scream at Aegir for not helping more. I do realize they've both had their share of shouting matches not long ago. I don't know what their deal is, but I know their relationship now is like a frozen lake at the end of winter. Forcing whatever this is, is like asking someone to skate above the said lake.

"Looks like the pressure's getting to you, sunshine," he says.

"Right?" I agree.

"You've got three days. Good luck."

"Do you have any backup plans in mind? You do have one, right?"

"I always do."

"If I fa—"

"You won't," he interrupts firmly.

That's easier said than done. I walk outside, a knight trailing behind me. As I slowly approach the sea, I feel more peaceful the closer I get to the shore. Calming raging waves is the easiest skill for a Thalassin. Every Thalassin can do it; I know I can. But commanding the sea is a different beast entirely. Only one in every generation can wield it—those the sea deems worthy.

"Father said the sea chose someone... months ago," Muiren says, appearing out of nowhere, her footsteps silent as an owl's flapping their wings. I turn, startled, and roll my eyes, familiar with her antics. "The elders must have said something."

"Of course, they always do," I reply.

"Has the sea spoken to you?" Muiren asks, her gaze fixed on the waves.

"Not once."

"So twice or thrice is in the bag," she says lightheartedly, then studies my face. Instantly, her expression shifts to something more serious. "Neither Ondine nor I have heard anything either."

"Wouldn't it be easier for all of us if Aegir was suddenly chosen?" I say, grasping at the impossible.

Muiren arches a brow. "You do realize he's half-human, right? A fact that makes him an unlikely candidate for this..."

"I know."

"My prediction is you."

"I want to be chosen," I admit. I''d gladly give the world just to be chosen by the sea.

"So you wouldn't get married off?"

I nod, staring at practically nothing.

"I'm glad I'm not from the main family," Muiren says with a wry smile.

"Really? Must you make this about yourself?"

"Hey, I'm just counting my blessings here."

"Wrong timing, my girl," I reply, picking up a pebble. "I don't even recognize my father anymore." He used to be my grounding rock. A majestic. ow feel like a stranger's. I can hardly recall the warmth of his laughter. I toss the pebble into the sea.

"People change. Sometimes for the better… or worse."

I let out a heavy sigh.

Muiren stretches out her arms, flicking her wrist gracefully, her fingers weaving through something invisible. The waves respond, their raging energy subsiding under her influence, shifting from chaotic ripples to gentle swells.

"I soothe him. Now you enrage him," she says.

"I can't," I reply.

"I've got a bet with Ondine riding on you. Don't let me down, racehorse. You're not giving up this easily, are you?"

"Who's Ondine placing her bets on?"

"No one."

"Wow, that paints a grim picture."

"To some extent, it makes sense. Someone has already been chosen. But none of the Thalassins can reign over the sea yet."

"Guess that spells the end for the Thalassins, then."

"Unless someone truly has been chosen but, for some reason, they're hiding it."

"If I could command the sea, I wouldn't keep it a secret."

"Yeah, I know. You'd blabber to Uncle the moment you figured it out."

"Do you suspect Ondine?"

"I'm not saying she's the one, but she definitely knows something."

"Can you imagine if she found the chosen one outside our family and kept it hidden all this time?"

"That's not out of character for her. She'd do anything to protect the Thalassins from falling apart."

The flapping of dragon wings startles us both. Currently, they're the only beings who rule the sky. They rarely come down from the mountain, which might signal that something is wrong—be it something we could see or something else entirely.

"They remind me of the lost elven family," Muiren says.

"The one from the history books? The one that commanded the skies?" I ask.

"Exactly. If we still had them, we could wipe out these orcs from the face of this world."

"Honestly, we could win this war for good if we could reason with the orcs and goblins. But, nope, they just proceeded to eat our diplomat years ago. Miss Eirene is convinced that they are driven by their instincts."

"Like an animal."

"Exactly like an animal."

"I despise them."

I nod. After all, it is a universally accepted truth: orcs are savages.

Speaking of savages, the sea waves look unforgiving. I decide to step closer, the mist of the sea spray gently splashing my skin. The sensation feels homely. I stretch my arms wide, closing my eyes. I instantly feel the rhythm of the waves, trace it gently, and try to map it out. I reach out with my mind, sensing. I imagine soothing them. It feels like unraveling multiple knots; patience is absolutely needed. I try to pull the right string apart and watch it untangle slowly. When I finally open my eyes, I'm greeted by the vast, calm sea.

"Whom do you speak to?" I say softly. The waves remain silent.