On board the ship, Captain Rick Edgeson, a man who was as happy swabbing a deck as he was standing at the helm and would often be found standing shoulder to shoulder with his men, was in his cabin. He was sitting in a massive leather chair, an intricately designed depiction of his family coat of arms woven into the back. The chair was the only sign he was a prince and not simply an ordinary man. When at sea, Rick hated to be bowed down to. His royal birthright was left at the quayside and he was either Captain or Cap'n, but never Your Highness. He'd confined the last man who called him such to the brig for the duration of the journey, with a warning that, next time, the man would be cast adrift on a raft with only dry biscuits to eat and his piss to drink.

Needless to say, no-one forgot and everyone remembered. Not many believed Rick really would actually follow through with his threat. He was too nice. Too fair. None wanted to test him, however. The stories of his previous endeavours, battling sea monsters and surviving terrible storms, were often whispered about below decks in the still of the night when the anchor was dropped and all that could be heard was the creak of the hull as it swayed slightly on the wave of the ocean.

The prince wore the teeth of a mighty shark around his neck. The creature had terrorised his crew a few years before, and was easily half the length of the ship. Rick had lost three crewmen over the course of a week before diving into the waters, a dagger between his teeth. All those aboard were sure he was lost as the seconds ticked by. When the waters turned red with blood, some even fainted, not only due to the sight of the crimson fluid, but also with the thought that their captain - their PRINCE - was dead.

Then he erupted from the ocean, a ragged tear to his side and a handful of teeth in his hand. The wound healed and the teeth were fashioned into a necklace, one he rarely removed. He wanted to be reminded (and have everyone around him reminded) of how fine the line between life and death was. In those moments beneath the waves, in battle with the shark, his side being bitten into and his lungs bursting, the captain was faced with his own mortality. He was very nearly killed and his men would have been powerless to help him. He dived in as an act of pride and bravado. He was the Captain, and a prince too. He couldn't let anyone or anything taunt him or show him to be weak.

It wasn't until he had driven his dagger into the eye of the beast and then stabbed it into the body, just below the dorsal fin that he realised his pride could have lead him to his demise. He was not ready to die. Prince Edgeson had a kingdom to rule, once he ascended to the throne, and a queen to find. A shark could have easily brought such aspirations to an untimely ruin.

Sitting in his cabin, settled into his throne, for, though he'd deny the fact, it was much closer to the royal seat than a captain's chair, he closed his eyes. He was tiring of this life on board a ship. His sea legs were becoming heavy and he longed for a life in the palace. He was never shy of work, but his love of the ocean was drowning, leaving a dry, salty aftertaste. At the palace, he could take on some of the king's duties. His father seemed to be aging by the day. His memory was failing and his health was racing it to the grave. He refused, though, to give in to the effects of time on his body. He had been king for most of his life, his own father being taken from him when he was only a boy by a strange creature from the sea. Being made ruler so young had been a burden but, once he was able, he'd hunted down and slayed the beast.

Rick had never been told what, exactly, the creature had been. His father had denied requests from the prince to reveal the details of how his grandfather had died and had grown angry when pushed. This had been, in part, the reason why he'd gone to sea himself. He wanted to be attacked. He wanted to be a target and to cross paths with whatever it was that had killed his grandfather.

Though many sea monsters had died at his hand, he was sure none where the guilty species. Now, he was tired of hunting. He wanted to take up the sceptre of royalty and brandish it in the tradition of his forefathers - with honour.

He could hear his crewmen singing and drinking up on deck. Normally he'd be there among them. He'd sing the loudest and drink the hardest, being the last one standing and the only one without a hoarse throat the next morning. This night was different. For no apparent reason, this night was one of reflection for him. He closed his eyes and sighed. Perhaps, once he was in the palace and the sea was nothing more than the breaking waters along the shore on a moonlit walk, he might find love.

His father, the king, was forever beating him with advice on how to find someone to stand by his side and to share his bed. Rick would smile and nod, but knew the advice was decades old and didn't fit in with the way relationships worked now. It wasn't simply that you were king or prince and another country had a princess for you to marry. It was, also, not enough to be handsome or intelligent or funny. You had to make a mark. To find someone to actually share your life with, you had to be the whole package to find the whole package.

Rick wasn't sure what sort of package he was. He'd spent so long crossing the ocean, he was afraid anything of import in his demeanour or personality had been washed away.

Besides. He had a secret. He had a skeleton hanging in his closet, with a thick, corded rope tight about its neck. It was locked away in the darkest corner of his mind, where shadows lurked like wraiths, waiting for the night to fall so they could roam the Earth and claim the requisite number of souls needed to make them less incorporeal and more able to tear out your throats. On most days, he would forget it was there. It would fade into the smog of memories, indistinct from his childhood as a growing prince and his adventures on board ship as a captain. Then, a chance word by one of his crew or someone at the palace would turn the key in the lock. The door would creak slowly open and the secret would slink out and begin to eat away at his thoughts, consuming them until it was all he could think about. He'd lock himself away for days, sometimes weeks, ignoring all who would come knocking at his quarters. There would be concern and anger from his crew and his family, but it would fall on ears deafened by guilt and self-loathing.

His secret had returned to its prison for the time being, serving out its days, waiting for the time when a random remark would offer it release. His thoughts were ricocheting around the cabin, occasionally slamming into his head, forcing him to focus, if only for a brief moment. He wanted the life of the prince he was meant to be, not the seafarer he'd become. His father had never set foot aboard a ship after he'd defeated the beast. He had a fleet at his disposal, and had led it from the comfort of his court.

Why couldn't that be the same for him? Why couldn't he follow his father's footsteps? But it wasn't so easy. He had a reputation as a captain who took risks. He was the one who would sail into danger, leaving sense and forethought at the shore. It would be difficult to walk away from such a legacy.

If only he could find a partner. A woman by his side would give him the opportunity to appear to mellow. Not that giving up his captaincy was the only, or even the main reason he wanted to meet someone. He wanted to love and to be loved. He wanted to have someone whose thoughts and concerns would be about him, not a treasure or a trade. And he would have someone to centre him. As he ruled his kingdom and was responsible for thousands of people, he could concentrate on just one.

He had to do it. He had to hang up his hat. If he went on one more journey and felt the sway of just one more ship under his feet, he was sure he'd throw himself overboard, and if there was a shark there waiting, he'd gladly let it eat it's fill.

He stood and grabbed his hat, casting it askew on his head - its usual position. He took his dagger and slid it into the scabbard at his belt and strode out onto deck.

"Turn about!" he yelled. "Let's go out to sea! As deep and as blue as we can find!"

"What are we looking for?" asked Blake, the first mate, not used to changes of course being thrown at him.

"We're looking for whatever we find," said Rick. He stared out to the horizon, suddenly seemingly so far away. It had long since been his friend, something perpetually in sight. Now, it was distancing itself from him and his decisions. Fair enough. If he was going to go out, it might as well be on a good one.