Dark Waters Rising

Trident

Valentine's eyes caught onto something a short distance away, which caused him to take Wesley's hand in his and guide him back to where they'd last seen his mother. He did his best to keep a casual pace, as to not catch any unwanted attention.

He hadn't expected there to be palatial guards this far down. They usually avoided the poorer districts, which was likely why this Calloway person wanted to meet him there instead of closer to the surface. There was less of a chance of him being recognized. Well, by those who would report him to the King, anyway.

Before he had been banished, Valentine spent a lot of his time in the lower rings trying to help those less fortunate than himself. He hadn't made it down this far as often, since in truth, the depths had made him uneasy back then. They still did, to an extent, but he didn't feel as unsettled by the cold and dark as he once did. He knew now that there were much worse horrors to behold.

He doubted he'd be recognized by the locals because of that, but there was a bit of a higher chance when it came to the guards.

It would probably be all right, since they weren't in the mindset to look for him because of the whole banished-and-likely-dead thing, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Unfortunately for him, the obvious lack of bioluminescence on the pair of them ironically made them stick out like a sore thumb in the glowing crowd.

Before he could do anything about it, they were face to face with three guards.

"You there," one of them called. "State your name and house."

"Veridian Wells," he said on instinct. It was the name of one of the boys he'd befriended when he was young and was the first viable lie he could think of on the spot. "One hundred and fifth house. This is my mate, Wesley Roberts of the ninety sixth."

The guard's eyes swiveled to Wesley in curiosity.

"What are you boys doing this far down?" he asked, since the houses Valentine had come up with indicated that they were of high enough families to live within range of the sun.

"He likes to collect surface oddities," Valentine said, gesturing at Wesley with a sweep of his hand. "He's obsessed with finding the perfect piece for his collection and I swear we've been through all seven hells and back looking for it. At this point I'm not even sure it exists."

"Does he always speak for you?" The guard directed his question at Wesley. It was only then that Valentine realized his mistake. He'd told them Wesley was of a higher house than himself, which meant he technically should've been the one speaking for both himself and Valentine, not the other way around. It wasn't strict etiquette, but it certainly was the more common thing to do.

"No, not always," Wesley answered, doing his best to sound more confident than he felt. "Just when I don't feel like talking myself."

The guard frowned at Wesley lightly just as one of the other guards swam closer to murmur something to him. His frown deepened as he looked at Wesley again.

"What's your father's name, boy?"

Wesley glanced at Valentine for help but when it was evident he wasn't going to receive any, he replied with his actual father's name, hoping they wouldn't call him out on Valentine's bluff for it. "Ambrose Roberts."

All three guards went still at the information. It didn't escape either of the two that they all adjusted the grips they had on their tridents to be far less casual.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us then."

"What? Why?" Valentine's calm façade was immediately dropped as he pulled Wesley protectively into his side.

"Ambrose Roberts is a known magic wielder. By order of the King, all potential magic wielders must be taken into custody."

"He's never used magic a day in his life!" Valentine practically growled as the guards pointed their weapons at him and inched closer.

"Sir, please move away from your mate."

"I haven't seen or spoken to my father since I was a small boy," Wesley pitched in, panic in his voice. This whole world was new to him. He didn't think he would survive without Valentine beside him. "Please, this is a misunderstanding!"

Valentine pushed Wesley behind his back as the guards surrounded them and frantically searched his mind for a way out. He couldn't use his gift, because that would be a dead give away to his identity. He couldn't recite any spells either, since that would warrant them taking him prisoner as well. They wouldn't be able to outswim them, since Wesley was a weak swimmer and Valentine was just plain weak at the moment. Not even Andromeda would be able to help. They were out of options.

When one of the guards lunged forward to grab Wesley, Valentine reacted on instinct. He sprung at the man, hoping his adrenaline would be enough to overpower him and get himself and his mate away from there.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a thought out plan. Wesley let out a surprised cry when a different guard grabbed him roughly. Valentine somehow managed to get the first guard in a chokehold, his arm forcing the gills on either side of the man's neck closed and the pressure he applied aiming to cut off the flow of oxygen to his brain.

He almost had the siren incapacitated when he felt a searing pain in his abdomen that caused his arms to slacken against his will. The third guard had taken action, using the trident in his hands to aid his companion.

Valentine looked down at himself, covering his stomach with his hand as a cloud of blood bloomed into the water. In the dim light it looked like a cloud of black ink, rather than red, but to Wesley, it was just as frightening.

"Val!" Wesley screamed out, struggling against his captor as the air left Valentine's lungs in a trail of bubbles. He lost buoyancy because of it, and his limp form sunk to the ocean floor.

"Everything will be all right," Valentine projected in a soothing tone, though he didn't have the energy to make his lips move around the words.

Wesley was sure his tears were adding salt to the ocean, but there was no way to prove that he was crying while underwater. He cried out and twisted in a desperate attempt to escape, but his efforts were in vain. The guard's grip was strong, and now all three of them were helping to haul Wesley away from his mate.

The only comfort Wesley got as he was dragged away was the sight of Andromeda moving to help her son. However, that comfort was short lived when he realized Andromeda's magic was being hauled away with him, in the pendant hanging around his neck. She wouldn't be able to heal him with it.

Despair filled every little crack Wesley could feel forming in his soul.

He couldn't lose Valentine.

Not now.

Not again.

----+------+----

A/N

Bet you didn't see that coming.

Question: What's your favorite time period? The 1700s? The 1940s? Let me know.

See you Sunday,
-Mora Montgomery