Siren

prologue | here be the sirens

Iara's throat burned.

White hot waves crashed searingly, aching to seep past skin into the silver-blue walls and the eerie silence of the castle that suffocated her tauntingly.

Iara brushed off the familiar feeling.

Lightning flashed against the great glass windows, cooly illuminating the hallway.

Iara gazed past the steely sheets of wind and rain, at the faint glimmer far away.

Her breath steadied, her blood ebbing and flowing to a rhythm etched deep in her bones.

She strode past fallen debris of glass and branches, shattered by the storm. The shards glinted softly with raindrops on the floor of the antechamber.

The door that led to the throne room loomed before, charcoal-blue wood gleaming dully in the faint moonlight. Iara dragged her nails across the deep etchings on the wood, tracing swirls of water, fang and fin, and the sinuous arch of tails and limbs.

The door cracked open.

The sharp draw of steel sliced through the muffled roar of the storm against the great glass dome overhead.

Iara felt a smile crawl across her lips at the charming scene. Her eyes dragged across the armoured bodies tensed in her direction unsurely.

A soldier near her levelled his sword against her neck. The blade shivered against her skin.

Pale, grey eyes slid down the blade, up the trembling arm at the roughened and screwed up face. The gaze diffused, caught in the snare.

"Stand down, boy," she said softly, fog swirling darkly in her gaze.

The arm dropped numbly.

"Your Highness!" a voice shouted, panicked, from ahead.

The bodies inched closer swords arched hungrily at her.

Iara raised her eyes to the tall figure stepping down the empty dais, and the gentle trickle of dark liquid down his sword.

Her eyes left him, sifting through the shadows near the pillars, waiting.

Her throat burned.

The air stirred. Silken notes of Amethea* tickled her nose.

The swords froze, limbs squeezed by an invisible force.

"Hold."

The voice was deep yet warm, heady with power.

The figure at the dais stumbled slightly, before looking to his left.

Iara

The call caressed her skin, lingering with a strange emotion.

Her face twitched almost imperceptibly as she shook off the feeling, as her gaze drifted to the shadows where a figure lounged against a thick crystal column. Refracted light flickered across sharp lines lifted in an amused smile. Midnight eyes peered through the light and shadows, enveloping the fog.

In silence, spirits keen wilder and hearts shroud tighter their secrets.

A body obstructed her path. It lay twisted in the middle of the room, primped in jewels and fine silk. The shimmery golden silk was stark against the dark, wide splotch that spread across the man's chest. His poison green eyes was frozen wide with pain, handsome face slack with eternal terror.

When she paused, amethea stirred again.

The body levitated, spinning in sickly circles before her. Rainlight splotched down the dead skin like hungry spectres. Metal clanged against the cool stone as his crown fell at her feet.

She dragged her eyes across the flesh indifferently. They lingered on the bruised, bare fingers hanging limply in the air.

Her eyes glimmered like cursed stars.

She stepped over the crown, and walked calmly to the great dais. Another figure was slumped against the steps, but she paid it no mind. The man on the dais faced her, sword drawn against his side, his stance drawn.

She drew to a stop at the foot of the dais.

"Princess Iara"

He stepped down the stairs, dark eyes boring down on hers.

"Do you come to willingly accept your end?" There was no scorn in his voice. "I shall end it painlessly then."

Iara regarded him-the stoic set of his lips, and the stern surity in his eyes.

She chuckled. The sound stilled the rain and the uneasy shiver of frozen blades.

The man's grip on the sword tightened imperceptibly.

"I will not die today, Prince Caspian."

"Stand down, Princess Iara." His voice was hard.

"But I haven't done anything." She tilted her head.

"This is not the time for games, princess."

She wordlessly stepped up the stairs, level with him.

Blades and armours strained. The rain drilled against the glass overhead. Wind and thunder made the sky tremor.

"Prince Caspian" she smiled, "I would like to propose a treaty."

"Oh?" He lifted his brow, impatience lining the syllable.

"Passage through the Ardan."

He laughed humourlessly.

"How does a mere princess make such wild proposals?"

"Like this," she said.

Iara fell into the magic, into the burn of the song, into the deep.

Her features sharpened and morphed into a being of ancient myths, terrifying secrets, power and deathly beauty. Tiny scales shimmered across her neck and arms like diamonds. Her nails lengthened talon-like and her ears transformed translucent and finned, tipped in stormy grey.

Grey eyes burned into blinding silver-the moon against the rage. They bore down upon the prince.

Dark red lips curled with a chilling sweetness, revealing sharp points.

"Now do you take my treaty, prince?"

Prince Caspian stepped back, sword gripped defensively as amethea intoxicated the air.

"Siren."

~

*Amethea is a magical, lily-like, violet flower that glows slightly in the dark. It grows only in the coldest regions of Soleheim, and has a short blooming period every four years. It is used in healing potions, poisons and perfumes (because of its distinct snowy, sweet and curranty scent). If harvested without proper equipment, the plant is toxic and can induce stupor.

~

a/n : thank you lovelies for reading this story. i update whenever i finish a chapter, an. i try proofreading at least once, so sorry of it's a little rough here and there :). anywayss, i am so excited for this story!! don't worry, it's definitely a hea, with a lil bitta spice, they are both ott, possessive and unhinged so lot's of chaos are waiting ahead lol. but please read the tw section in the description. i will update it as i go. ilyall, stay safe!

xoxo
briar