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The metal tip of Cerydra’s pen scratched rhythmically against the parchment. From outside her tent, the faint sounds of cheering and celebration meandered in. Was Hysilens enjoying herself? Cerydra shook her head clear of distractions and turned back to her scrolls. Someone rang the bell at the tent’s entrance, and entered through the leather flaps.
“Who–”
Cerydra looked up and saw Hysilens. The siren was wearing her usual dark, flowing dress, sewn with pearls and corals. Her blue and purple eyes shimmered with discontent, as she sauntered over with a frown.
“Is the feast not to your liking, Dux Gladiorum?”
Hysilens stopped in front of her desk.
“Tell me what’s missing, my blade. I will have people bring it.”
Hysilens shook her head. “You aren’t joining the festivities, Imperator? You’ve missed the last three celebrations already.”
Cerydra let out a weary sigh. “The Kremnoan front and unrest in Corinth have required my attention.” Even now, marching across Loukas, she could scarcely look away.
“If I’m not careful, the skirmishes with the Kremnoans could well turn into a full scale invasion. There is also word that the tyrant of Loukas has been seen in Icaria, and starvation across southern Corinth from Aquila’s tantrums is on the verge of devolving into open civil war. We—“
Cerydra stopped herself. She was rambling. The siren princess did not come to hear about the woes of ruling. Hysilens still stood across the desk, a bored look on her face. Cerydra’s eyes softened. Even after nearly half a decade of campaigns, from when their eyes first met on the desolate shores of Styxia, to now, a world away, across the snow-capped Epos mountains and the dried riverbeds of Dolos, her little blade still held so little interest for talk of strategy and politics.
“I apologize, Dux Gladiorum. You needn’t worry about these matters. Go rejoin the festivities. You’ve earned it.”
Hysilens opened and closed her mouth a few times, failing to find the words. It reminded Cerydra of a fish blowing bubbles.
“A feast where I might belong. That was your promise,” She finally said after a while, a slight indignation to her tone.
It was Cerydra’s turn to frown. Had the soldiers made her feel unwelcome? She placed her pen down with a loud thud. “Someone dared to insult my Dux Gladiorum? I shall have them drawn and quartered.”
“It isn’t that.” Hysilens shook her head. “A fish cannot find her way in the murky depths without the flashes of sunlight piercing through the silt. A feast without you isn’t one where I belong.”
A rush of guilt welled up in Cerydra’s heart. She had neglected her little blade. Taken her sharpness for granted. How lonely she must have felt, swimming in stranger seas, among people she still did not understand. Her eyes darted between her stacks of papers and the siren, but only for a second. She stood up. “Have someone fetch me my robe, I shall be attending the festivities.”
In one graceful gliding motion, Hysilens was beside Cerydra, pushing her back down on the chair. “You will not.”
“But–”
“If you go, the soldiers will expect speeches and ceremonies. You’ve pushed yourself hard enough, Imperator.”
She hesitated for a moment, and flashed Hysilens a weary smile. “A promise is a promise, Dux Gladiorum. Or do you think me a woman who so frivolously breaks her word?”
“... In that case, Imperator, I have a suggestion.”
The two arrived at the festivities under the veil of siren-song. Hysilens never ceased to amaze Cerydra. She knew of her magic, of course, but experiencing it first hand was… different. Far above them, the night sky was dotted with a thousand stars. Cerydra still wore her thin nightgown, along with a thick woolen robe that hung messily around her shoulders. As they walked through the crowds of soldiers, not a single one turned to bow or salute. Not a single one looked at her with burning adulation in their eyes.
They stopped by a deserted table, honeybrew and snacks in hand, and talked a while of everything from the recent volumes Cerydra had given Hysilens, to the merits of Loukasian cuisine. Though it seemed to Cerydra that Hysilens enjoyed any cuisine as long as it was filling enough.
“They truly do not see us.” Cerydra mused after a while.
“And yet you seem unable to relax, Imperator.”
“A force of habit perhaps. I find myself using this chance to observe how my dukes act without my presence. Rarely is a ruler blessed with such a perspective of their subjects.”
“Then perhaps I should make you forget the crowds.”
A pair of hands wrapped around Cerydra from behind, and she nearly spilled the honeybrew in surprise. Cerydra spun around in Hysilen’s embrace, turning to face her.
“Dux Gladiorum, what—”
“How much longer shall our mating dance last, Imperator?”
“What—“
“I see the way you look at me. Why do you deny yourself, Imperator? You have but to say the word.”
Cerydra held Hysilens’ gaze for a few, taut breaths. She placed the cup of honeybrew down the table.
“You know I wouldn’t order this of you, dear subject.”
Cerydra lifted a few strands of Hysilens’ dark, silky hair, before letting it slip back through her fingers.
“Your heart, your blade… any more of you I shall not ask. Not until…” Cerydra’s voice trailed off with a wistful tone.
“Then don’t ask. Let me give. I want this too, Imperator.”
Cerydra felt the warmth of Hysilens’ water, felt it soak through the front of Hysilens’ dress and spread into her own gown, tickling at her skin. Of course she wanted this. Of course she wasn’t blind to their little… dance. But, she was the Imperator, and Hysilens her subject. Did the Dux Gladiorum want this or did Helektra?
Hysilens’ arms were still tightly wound around her back, and Cerydra had to lean away to look at her. She looked into those shimmering blue eyes, eyes the color of stormy seas. There was such burning resolve in them, unwavering ever since the very first day they had met. And yet they held such a desolate loneliness too. How could feasts alone hope to fill this gnawing abyss? Cerydra leaned closer to Hysilens, and shared in her warmth. She had promised afterall, hadn’t she? To give Helektra everything she wanted. The hows and whys didn’t matter. She needed only to fulfill those wishes.
“Here, Dux Gladiorum?” She whispered into Hysilens’ ear, voice trembling with heat.
“In the sea, our revelry stretched from the coldest alcoves to the warmest reefs. You humans truly are prude creatures.”
“Do not lump me in with your idea of humans, dear subject. But, the Imperator has an image she must maintain. One you’ve sworn to protect.”
“My spell will stop even the most prying eyes.” Hysilens conceded.
“Then you better hope you can maintain it, Dux Gladiorum.”
Cerydra went up on her tiptoes, arms wrapping around the back of Hysilens’ neck, and pulled her in for a kiss. Her siren tasted of the sea-side breeze. Salt and sugar mixed into the most intoxicating brew. Their tongues swam around each other, greedy and hungry. Cerydra’s hands raked through Hysilens’ silky hair, sending the pearls and seashells that adorned it scattering to the ground. No matter. She would gift her a thousand more.
Hysilens pulled Cerydra closer, and closer still. She peeled off Cerydra’s coat. She lifted her up onto the table, spilling the pitchers of honeybrew and sending them rolling away. The sweet scent of grapes and nectar filled the air around them.
When the two split apart, they were both gasping for breath, as though divers surfacing from the depths. Cerydra cast a look around, and saw the festivities hadn’t stopped. No one had looked their way.
“Still not enough to capture your attention, I see.” Hysilens said. Was that a hint of pouting in her voice?
Cerydra watched as the siren began to strip. Torchlight refracted through the azure of her body, small bubbles twinkling like the reflections of stars ablaze. Cerydra reached forward. Her fingers grazed the water’s surface, sending ripples floating up Hysilen’s body. She had thought her fingers would plunge right in, but some sort of film seemed to keep them out. It wouldn’t be hard to push through though, and swim around Hysilens’ inside.
She traced a line down from Hysilens’ navel to where her pussy would be. The wake of movement echoed across Hysilens, and coaxed out a sing-song moan. The whole of it was translucent water, the same beautiful blue of glaciers she once walked across in Hyperborea. Her fingers explored, from between the swells of Hysilens’ breasts, to the line where the water morphs back into ivory legs. Every movement earned her a trembling squirm from Hysilens.
“I have long wondered how far down it went.” Cerydra mused.
“Do you find it grotesque? If you wish, I could…”
“No!” Cerydra’s eyes flicked up to meet Hysilens’. “No. The self is not something you should change so lightly for others, Helektra.”
“You aren’t ‘others’. And this isn’t my real body to begin with.”
Cerydra frowned. She had thought that Hysilens had begun to feel at home in her body. But how could half a decade compare to the endless days of swimming free in an yet unmarred ocean?
“Know that I would not mind.”
“Mind what?”
“If you want to do this in your true form.”
Hysilens laughed, bright like pearls. “Oh? And do you know what my first form was like?”
Cerydra shook her head. “But it matters little. Whatever body you wore, I’m sure you were beautiful.”
“Perhaps once we’ve taken back the seas, I shall dance and sing for you as my sisters once danced for wayward sailors. There is far too little water here.”
“It’s another promise, then.” Cerydra’s eyes roamed back down across Hysilens’ body, burning every inch into memory.
“There is something else I can do, here on land,” Hysilens said, her voice dropping low.
Cerydra watched with shallow breaths as Hysilens’ mound shifted, the water coalescing into a translucent shaft.
“Your talents truly know no end, princess.”
Cerydra peeled off her rings one by one, and tossed them unceremoniously to the side. They clinked like bells against the wooden table. Cerydra slowly reached over, and as gentle as a butterfly grazing water, wrapped her fingers around Hysilens’s cock. Hysilens sucked in a breath.
“You can feel through it?”
“The– The water is part of me,” Hysilens answered in a shaky voice.
Cerydra stroked along its length. Slowly at first. Each time her hand tapped against the base of Hysilen’s shaft, little ripples were sent up towards her breasts, scintillating like fishscales. Cerydra leaned in, still seated on the table, and lightly bit down on Hysilens’ ear. She could feel the way Hysilens trembled at her touch.
“So sensitive, my dear princess.”
Cerydra stroked faster. Hysilens’ cock was slippery and hot against her hand. Cerydra’s eyes were lost in the hypnotic wavelets that swelled across Hysilens’ breasts, in rhythm with the movement of her hand. Hysilens moaned louder and louder, and buckled forward, arms struggling to prop herself upright against the table. She buried her head against Cerydra’s neck.
“Imperator— I’m—“
Cerydra squeezed lightly, and felt Hysilens twitch. Her other hand reached up, grabbing Hysilens’ translucent breast. She curled her finger, and pushed into the water of it, twirling around in little swirling motions. The knight cried out in pleasure, and for a moment Cerydra was sure that the siren-song would break. But it didn’t. Whatever part of her knight’s mind kept the magic going hung on.
“Good girl.” Cerydra whispered into Hysilens’ ear.
Cerydra felt Hysilens come, accompanied by her musical groans. Her cock pulsed in Cerydra’s hand like little waves breaking on the shore. Thick, warm and clear liquid shot out and glazed her hand. Cerydra gently pulled her other hand out of Hysilens’ breasts, coaxing out one more trembling moan. She unwrapped her hand from Hysilens’ still hard cock.
“Still hungry for more, dear siren?” Cerydra asked, meeting Hysilens’ glazed over eyes.
The siren nodded, too dazed for words. Cerydra grabbed Hysilens by the hand, and by some miracle managed to lead Hysilens back to her tent. No sooner had the tent flaps closed behind them that Hysilens pinned her down by the shoulder onto the bed. Hysilens hovered on top of her. With a single deft movement, Cerydra’s gown was torn open. Thin, slender fingers, callused at their tips, brushed against her sides, drawing out a long shiver. Her underwear was peeled off next, and her coat was long gone, no doubt on the dirt somewhere, drenched in sea water and honeybrew. Long silky strands of hair fell down next to her face, as though a thin veil covering the two of them.
Hysilens was breathing heavily. Her pupils were drawn into a thin line. In the dim candlelight of the tent, she gave all the impressions of a shark. The poor little fish had been goaded into such raw hunger. Cerydra would be a cruel liege to deny her a feeding. Cerydra squirmed in pleasure as Hysilens’ cock rubbed against the entrance of her pussy. But Hysilens didn’t go any further. She wouldn’t. Not until Cerydra gave the word.
“Feast, my little swordfish.”
Hysilens pushed into Cerydra, coaxing out a long, breathy moan. Cerydra arched her back, hanging onto Hysilens like a sailor to driftwood. She pulled her knight down with her into a long, heated kiss. She felt Hysilens push in deeper. Felt the warm water of her cock morphing to kiss every inch of her insides.
“Nnnmgh— Oh, Helektra— Mmm, more!” Cerydra cried out.
Hysilens obeyed, thrusting into Cerydra at a slow, steady pace. Hysilens’ free hand roamed towards Cerydra's breasts, and brushed against her nipples. Tender, as though she were plucking a waterharp. Cerydra reached up once more to between the swells of Hysilens’ breasts, to where her heart should be. Cerydra pushed a finger in as Hysilens pushed deeper into her. Hysilens let out a whimper, and almost fell on top of Cerydra, but the little fish was strong, and managed to catch herself. With each curl of Cerydra’s finger, she could feel Hysilens’ cock twitch inside of her.
“Mmmnn– Just like this, Helektra–” Cerydra breathed out.
Hysilens drooped down, burying herself in the crook of Cerydra’s neck. Cerydra felt Hysilens’ sharp teeth sink into her shoulder. She let out a pained, trembling gasp. Instantly, Hysilens pulled away, and froze.
“I’m sorry, Cery— Imperator, I— I didn’t mean—”
Why had her siren stopped? Cerydra frowned, eyes still hazed over with heat, and looked up in annoyance. Her gaze softened at the tears gathering in the corner of Hysilens’ reddened eyes, shining like pearls.
“You can bite. I’m not so fragile.”
Cerydra pulled Hysilens back down into a kiss. She tasted iron, and saltwater. Hysilens took her words to heart and bit down on Cerydra’s lip. A thin trail of gold ran down the edge of Hysilens’ cheek, as Cerydra moaned into the kiss. Cerydra’s hand rubbed between her own legs as Hysilens thrust into her, laying down soft, stinging bites on her neck.
“Imperator, I’m–” Hysilens spoke, voice muffled against Cerydra’s skin.
“Cum with me, Helektra,” Cerydra commanded, voice hoarse. Her fingers thrust deeper in Hysilens’ chest, bubbles swirling around them.
Hysilens twitched inside of her. She felt Hysilens’ cock swell just as she lost herself to that blinding, bright light. Cerydra cried out. Her toes curled, and her back arched up, grinding into Hysilens’ supple, watery body. Her legs wrapped around Hysilens as pleasure crashed into her like a thousand waves breaking on jagged rocks. Hysilens’ cum poured into her, bathing her walls in warmth. Hysilens let out a trembling groan to match Cerydra’s own cry, and it sounded more beautiful than any tune Cerydra had ever heard.
Cerydra slowly pulled out her fingers, slick with sea water. She pulled Hysilens down, onto her breasts. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knight. She could still feel the weak pulses of Hysilens’ cock inside of her, as the aftershock of the orgasm echoed across her body. Slowly, Hysilens pushed herself up and pulled out of Cerydra, drawing out one more shiver and moan from her. Cerydra turned to face Hysilens, still panting for breath. The bubbles in Hysilens swirled in a frenzy. Cerydra met Hysilens’ eyes, and saw her lick away the golden ichor at her lips. On her thigh, she felt Hysilens’ cock harden once more.
Cerydra let out a little raspy laugh. “What are we to do with this appetite of yours, Dux Gladiorum?”
Cerydra gently ran her fingers through Hysilens’ hair. The siren had fallen asleep on top of her after the third or fourth round. In truth, Cerydra had lost count; the memories of the night melted and muddled into each other. Hysilens was curled up, an arm still looped behind Cerydra, and head buried in the crook of her neck. The sounds from outside had long died down; even the hardiest of her dukes would have retired by now. Had the siren-song fallen by the wayside sometime during the night? No matter, they could deal with whatever comes in the morning.
“How presumptuous, for a knight to mark her sovereign,” Cerydra muttered. Her breasts, and all along her neck and shoulders, still stung with fresh, golden bite marks. She would have to wear thick furs. She gently tugged a handful of Hysilens’ midnight hair towards her face, and basked in the scent. Oceans and stardust. She buried her head in Hysilens’ hair and closed her eyes.
“I hope this feast was to your liking, little fish.”