I find myself plunged beneath another relentless wave, with a surplus of moments to ponder the exact, suffocating weight of the sea. I must admit, while the violence of the hurricane is... formidable, I find I am trying harder now, clinging with fierce tenacity to the air in my lungs and refusing to surrender to the tide.
Yet, as the dark waters drag me under, I glance upward to where he sits comfortably upon the deck of his vessel, watching the tempest swallow me whole. It seems he expects me to navigate these depths with the flawless, unyielding grace of a monarch who can command the very ocean to still as if my blood alone should keep me afloat in a storm. I trust this agonizing descent will not be my final act. After all, I'm not done. Not even close to drowning under his gaze.
Honestly, Your Grace
