A Prince's Prophetic Switch

Ishan

"There is only one good: knowledge,
and only one evil: ignorance."
~Letters from a Stoic: Letter 53,
by Lucius Annaeus Seneca 

"My son," Neptune's voice was scratchy, scraping against his throat, as if not wanting to come out. Ishan stood, struggling to keep consciousness, but Neptune continued anyway. "The fate of the world rests on your shoulders."

Ishan couldn't help but dream of the events leading up to now, when he lay, unconscious, at the bottom of the ocean.

It was a nice day, then, the day he found out the truth. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing. Not that Ishan might've known, not usually. He was stuck at the bottom of the sea, tucked away where his father held him captive. Wielding a trident he was never even meant to hold. Everyone, everything, in his father, Neptune's, realm, all seemed so different. Alien. If only he had known then what he does now.

Ishan knew mortals weren't to fear. His father had told him that much. So then why did Neptune, Roman god of the sea, become visibly afraid whenever Ishan spoke of his dreams of the land? This was the question he'd asked himself earlier that day. At that time, he hadn't an answer.

But what was so wrong about Ishan, so dare to say frightening, about him? Why couldn't he wield a trident, or manipulate the currents, or even stir the seas? He was the son of Neptune. He should have been able to. It was part of who he was. Yet, it wasn't, at the same time. He knew that, now.

But all he knew then was that he needed some, any proof of who he was. Otherwise, he wasn't even sure he believed it. Maybe he didn't believe it. Maybe he knew it wasn't true. For all he knew, he could be the child of some human or mortal. Yeah, that was the case. He remembers thinking. If only he knew. Before he could continue his thought train, his father interrupted him.

"BOY!" he boomed, making the water cold against Ishan's skin, yelling louder than when the merman cheered during a game of serpent cow. A game he wasn't allowed to play.

"Ishan!" his father yelled again, snapping him out of his trance. Neptune could be a little bit—

"Now!" Neptune yelled. —...impatient.

He stopped himself from thinking anything more, and swam fast as he could.

"Coming, Uncle!" he called.

Normally you wouldn't call your father 'Uncle', but this was first century Rome. This was normal. Well, respectful at least. It was custom. If your father was of a high class, you'd call him Uncle.

But now, when Neptune, Roman God of the sea, appeared in his flip flops and white toga—which for the 2nd time this week, he'd kept together with pieces of kelp instead of the signature golden rope—, he almost looked sophisticated. Almost. But not quite. The kelp had thrown it off, for obvious reasons.

"Ishan, we need to talk." The way his father emphasized the word talk made Ishan's heart sink to the bottom of his stomach, and he let out an audible choke.

"Are you... all right? Boy?" Neptune asked.

"Yes, yes, just... you worry me, Uncle."

"Ah, well..." Ishan could see his father become anxious. "I see. I will try not to worry you so much, but I must inform you of something, Ishan."

"Uncle, you're calling me by name more than you usually do. Is something wrong?" Ishan asked, oblivious. Too oblivious. If only I'd known, Ishan can't stop thinking as he relives the day through sleep.

"Well, you see... Something has happened, and the Emperor and I believe it is because of you two."

I haven't done something wrong, he'd thought. Surely you know that I have not once gone to the shore. Is that not what you fret?

"You said 'you two' I shall assume that I am one, but whom else is there?" Ishan asked. His thoughts were often more organized and direct than the words he spoke aloud, and this was one of those times.

"The kings—" Ishan's father started, but then paused for 3 long, uncomfortable seconds, before finally speaking again. "My son."

And then, as if he had never fainted, as if he weren't dreaming right now, the conversation continued, lucid.

"Your son? That means..." Ishan trailed off.

"I could not bring myself to tell you, I could not bring myself the pain of when you found that your father is," but the dream blurred, just before his question was answered, and he floated, in and out of consciousness.