A weary smile squiggled across the dark maiden’s expression at the thought of her Emperor and the Crowned Prince at war with each other—when were they not silently fighting tooth and nail? Their guest would need not have to walk around eggshells when it came to that Father and Son combo. “I will clean the mess for you, Sire. I apologize on the Prince’s behalf… I cannot fathom where his disdain has come from…” She certainly wasn’t lying, something had inspired the Prince’s nasty side, but their guest had only just arrived… perhaps it was an exertion of dominance? A rather snarky one. “I hope you will… find the wardrobe inside suitable for the evening banquet.” A glance up and down his unusual form confirmed to her that anything would be better than that tacky cloak. He was a strange thing… it had been cold minutes prior and now, the air felt temperamentally warm—what was that he was doing to the ink splashed over the doorway? Ink didn’t drip quite like water, did it? Obviously, this act of mysticism found her on uneasy grounds, twiddling and intertwining her fingers in a nervous curiosity. His own self hooding didn’t dispel a drop of the toxic worry, either.

Thank the Gods that something was being carted down the hallway, wooden wheels that had been sanded to perfection for the smooth floors and attached to a makeshift table, only meant to carry a crystalline box, ornamented at the brim in golden sculptures, supposedly waves of the ocean. Inside the structure, filled with pure, perfectly clear water, was a figure unlike any found on land. Its tail spread into two, wavery and thin, like a piscine, and light pink in colour that attached itself onto more rigid structure, a tail that, for now, was bent akin to a human hugging onto its knees, proving it’s flexibility as a muscle. Undeniably for aquatic venturing, the large tail was equipped with little more than cycloid, crimson scales, not unlike a carp or salmon, fish that needed flexible hides. What made this particular piscine unusual, would have been how, about three fifths up the tail, the scales had all but disappeared. Replaced instead by the torso of something far more sapien. Pale beyond a healthy colour, the creature made sure to curl itself up as small as possible, to obscure its face against the upwards bend of its own tail. Ivory strands floated in a spikey fashion in the poor gravity pull inside its little watery prison. It would appear the creature was to be placed inside the guest Prince’s room, no doubt the aesthetic that the Emperor had summoned for him. The guards that pulled the creature closer to the inky door seemed mildly amused at the welcome from their troublesome Prince—things were surely going to get interesting around the palace, now. “A gift from the Emperor, Prince. Some company for you in your abode—be aware, though. Do not stick your hand inside. He’s a biter.” It was perhaps difficult to imagine the cowering aquatic as aggressive, given his forlorn, almost fetal pose inside a glass casing he just managed to fit in.

Water splashed idly as the tank—or prison, to some—was settled inside the room that had no expense spared. Gold (which seemed to be a recurring pattern), with fresh whites of cotton and linen. The bed was easily four poster, with draping curtains of semi-transparent mesh. A dresser, with a three pane mirror and drawers with only the finest in hair care items, combs, and the like, with a very old, ancient etching along carefully preserved chair. The wardrobes were an equal palette and intricacy, a small lounging table, with softer, plusher chairs. A balcony was also present to the Prince, one that, as promised, overlooked the expanse of the ocean and her ever-changing temperament. It was no wonder the Dragons had collected a creature of the ocean—they probably thought they owned it, being so close to their palace and all. 

The tank was sat furthest away from it, too, almost deliberately so.

“He arrived yesterday, Prince. We’ve yet to prove if he can talk, but the Emperor insisted you have his latest centrepiece.” No doubt the fish was something to study. To see if he could speak, could respond. A Mercreature, a rarity befitting the symbol of a Fae—in return, he had received a denizen of the very marine mother herself. The guards left with a bow to the Fae… something about him seemed different, but it would never be their place to say so. The moment they had left, only then did the snowy crest in the tank raise his head—and only then did a pitiful blend of pink and red pigment seek to find their new, unwitting captor. “. . .” Who was to poke and prod at him now?