The princess lounged on a rock by the sea.

The boy in the shadows watched.

The prince ran up to her, tried to pull her from her sunny rock, but she resisted.

"Let me stay just a little longer," she said. "I'm not ready to go back there yet! There's so much responsibility and so much work. I need some time to just forget about things!" She sighed. "If only for a little while."

The prince looked put out. He fell back to the hard, wet sand. The prince hated the sea for being such a harsh place for his princess. She was more than capable of handling a kingdom someday, he knew, but he feared losing the cheerful girl (he suspected he was beginning to love) to the monstrosity that lurked under the sea, and the treachery of the monarchy.

The boy in the woods turned and ran back through the trees, for who knows how long. Time was the last thing on his mind, for he had just laid eyes on members of the royalty, those who lived under the sea. A rare encounter indeed!

He reached his home, made of slabs of stone, perched on a hill. Only one other house stood near, and it seemed empty most of the time. Or perhaps those who lived there, like he and his, spent most of their time indoors. Through many rooms the boy ran, with a hazy pink obscuring his vision as he thought of the princess. She was as lovely as the rumors said. He ran through rooms for eating, rooms for storing, rooms for washing, sleeping, reading, studying, and building. Deep inside the stone structure, he reached one such room.

A little metal, that's all he needed: a little bit for bars, a little for chains; he melted and bent and shaped until he had what he wanted.

A few nights later, he returned to the sea. The moon was out, and it reflected at him, reminding him of a large eye. He couldn't help but feel that it was watching him; it didn't help that he was out after dark, something his guardian strictly forbid. He would have been uneasy anyway, being this close to the sea: that divider between the royalty, like them and the commoners. "Like me," he thought to himself.

Those of his blood had served the Empire for generations, through their inventions and loyalty. Now he would do his best to serve again.

All night he waited, crouched in the crashing waves, but they didn't budge him or push him over. Like an ox, he stubbornly staid. Finally, he spied what he had been waiting for, and lunged. In his powerful grip, he held a fish.

He brought the fish to his creation and gently placed it inside, enclosing it within. Then he chained the whole thing to a large boulder, which he tossed with all of his great might out to sea.


Some time later.

The princess collected fish. It was something she did. While she sometimes felt useless concerning matters at court, she at least knew she could make a difference in the lives of the quiet sea creatures she took in to her home. She could almost convince herself that they needed her, although she knew deep down in actuality that they didn't…but if she was honest with herself, she would simply be too lonely to function without her fishy friends.

One morning, she had been out swimming; not any place in particular, just a way to get out of the castle; a distraction from the many matters that may or may not have needed her attention (it was hard to tell sometimes; they didn't seem to listen when she gave her opinion anyway!). While she was out, she had found a cuttlefish, encased in a twisted but skillfully wrought cage. She brought it back with her, and hung it in her room. She would talk to it, and sing to it – well, she imagined "him"—and often lament her fears and frustrations to him in a way she never felt like she could with her "best friend".

How her little cuttlefish had come into her life…well she didn't know, didn't want to know, and honestly was sure she would never find out for certain (although she did like to romance up elaborate back stories for her pet, and the family and friends he had left behind). However, it was beyond question that she was thankful for him – more so than she could ever say.