It was frustrating, the uncertain air that clouded the bliss they’d previously been showered in. Ecstasy lingered on her lips, tainting her tongue with the sinfully sweet remnants of a forbidden lover. Yes, a lover. Not a victim, or distraction for the siren to toy with. Edmund had left footprints on her soul and now stained her flawless body in the ghost of his touch. Would it be dramatic to say she was sure he’d ruined her? Stolen the one thing she was confident she could succeed at - Seduction. The simple thought of using her allure, her body, her lips, on another left her stomach churning, throat tightening in disgust. How was it possible? For this boy to command her in such a way? To demand her all, while offering her nothing but more uncertainty. It forced waves of panic to rise in her chest, tightening and tugging at the depths of her belly. Emerald orbs drink him in as though she’d traveled across several baron lands, and he was the only elixir to wet her parched tongue. Breathing him in, she welcomes the feel of his smooth robe against her tiny frame. It was a sentiment the siren embraced, lifting a hand to pull the fabric closer. It was curious, he’d offered her his own cover while gifting the world all he had to bear. “Thank you…” The words are a huff of a whisper, trailing after him after he’d turned to begin their journey towards her sanctuary. Effortless, her movements along the changing terrain seemed to be. On the tips of her toes, she stepped down with ease, like a graceful swan, gliding along the surface of stilled water. Or a dancer, floating smoothly to a gentle tune. It was one of her kinds many blessings, the gift of elegance. Edmund seemed to be fairing rather well, though she was certain he wasn’t comfortable with the trek, he held his barings. “I’d be lying if I said you weren’t confusing me.” His words only added to the frenzy of hysteria consuming her mind. Of course, Elizabeth had heard tales; Stories of the untameable King Edmund. A dashing pleasure seeker, losing himself in the lips and feels of another. That was his lifestyle, his comfort. So why dare change such a thing? Why taunt her with the idea of being more? Was it a slip of the tongue? An offer given in the heat of a moment? “What is it you want, Edmund?” What a loaded question. One that instantly had her veins pulsing in panic. Could she actually handle whatever his answer might be? In a simple inquiry, she’d left all the power in his palms, leaving her a weak, flightless bird. Fear tickled at the back of her neck, forcing her gut to tighten as frosty bolts of electricity rippled through her. Ruby lips tremble, her tongue flicking at the back of her teeth, urging her to spill a song. To gain control, to take back everything she’d just awarded him. It was nature, her body’s way of defending itself while feeling it was under attack, left open, vulnerable. It was a battle, fighting the urge to release a melody to pull him in, to demand he speak his truth, regardless of the repercussions. But a boyish grin is sent her way dissipating her song, before he’s twisting away, hiding a ruby hue she’d just gotten a glimpse of.
“Is that what you fear?” Arms wrap themselves protectively around her petite frame, tugging the robe close. “That I might have bewitched you? That the hazy emotions you feel aren’t pure?” Could she fault him for feeling such a way? For fearing the worse? After all, her voice was just as deadly as the allure of Witchy promises, if not more so. “Would you believe me if I swore my song was simply to remind you of me? That I’d sung it in hopes of warming your mind and soul, not tainting it.” Had Elizabeth known where things would lead, she never would have dared a song. But neither of them could have imagined how their reunion would bloom into such a conundrum. With all the madness consuming her mind, Elizabeth had nearly forgotten the purpose of their venture. It wasn’t to interrogate one another, but to ready themselves to be presentable. To focus on the larger issue at hand; A war. But how was the temptress to think of such things while her heart and head were heavy with dread? It was impossible. Because Elizabeth was a selfish creature, and her need for clarification was sickening. Studying the King as he dares testing the waters, the soothing rush of untamed streams washed up against his legs. “Don’t fight it.” Her tone is soft, her shoulders rolling to allow his robe to slip down. Shifting, she carefully folds his belonging, placing it out of harm’s way before stripping unblushingly from her dress. Bare, she stalks towards him, lids closing as she allows herself a moment to listen to the sweet call of the ocean. “You want to see my oasis, no? You have to trust me and the water.” Such a tall request, given everything they currently battled. Lowering herself beside him, her legs dip into the water before her entire from follows, her head instantly falling below the current. Selfishly, the siren remains underwater longer than is appropriate, allowing the warm sea to soothe her. A spell passes before she’s bobbing up, unfazed by the rushing swirls. “Take my hand, hold your breath, and trust me…” Peeking at him through her lashes, she lifts a palm, offering it to him. The current would pull them under the rocks, sending them down under the earth to slip across a rushing fall into her stunning hideaway. // - @traitorinthemidst
The sounds of the woman behind him disrobing was a familiar and somewhat soothing sound. Different from how the water’s beckoning sound called at him, cold and threatening and dangerous. Her sound was that of a loving entanglement under silk sheets, the warmth of a fire crackling faintly in a hearth as you read a book for leisure, the tinkling that starts in your fingers when they enter and fill the spaces between a lover's fingers while stargazing. The sea’s sound, though, whispered in an uneasy, unknown language, making promises that though fantastic were lofty. Still, had not all of the king’s first times with anything been similar to that unknown language that the sea spoke until he’d become more accustomed? His first time riding a horse, his first time leading troops into battle, his first time eating an unfamiliar fruit in an unfamiliar land, the first time he’d hunted the White Stag, his first time making love. Those all held their own kind of unknown thrills. In fact, he’d dived in with no knowledge of the depths of the turbulent water under him his first times with Elizabeth. He hadn’t been hesitant in approaching and talking to the siren when he’d met her as a child, despite his not even possessing a blade on him at the time, call it childish naivety. He’d also wantingly deepened his intimacy with the woman, through the act of carnal knowledge, without concern of the power of her song or if a net might be just under the water’s surface ready to capture him at any moment.
Edmund’s relationship with water wasn’t an easy one. He’d never been a good swimmer, though he was able and capable of swimming, diving, floating, and the like if the need should arise. However, if at all possible he made an effort to keep from entering into water that reached passed to his waist unless the water was very clear or he’d been drinking heavily. He preferred solid ground, mountains, hills, even sand and mud he handled, or footed, with ease. Large bodies of water were so vastly unpredictable and ever-changing in comparison, even with sandstorms, avalanches, mudslides, and snow earth underfoot felt real. Water on the other hand was surreal. Thus solid ground remained more agreeable to the young king. The sea held tempest, and temptresses, had sea serpents, and sea people; it was impossible for a human to breathe in water, it was uninhabitable, and the only way to make a long crossing was by boat(made from the trees and materials found on land). When faced with large bodies of water, Edmund always seemed to recall the traumatic time the water nymphs had gotten a hold of him and taken him a long way out into the sea while he was practicing his mediocre floating skills. Exhausted, he’d thought he was to drown that very day. Though it was just the playful spirits of the nymphs, they knew very well how to keep him safe, Edmund had become frantic when he couldn’t see land in sight. That day, Edmund had been taught both to hold his breath without the aid of pinching his nose and to hold his breath for longer than he’d known he was capable of. When the nymphs delivered him to shore, he was given a shell as he’d never seen before and the strangest kiss he’d have even tried to describe. It was wet, very wet. His irrational displeasure of tides and currents and undertow and waves and varying depths persisted, despite several more, enlightening, and enjoyable encounters. And now it seemed despite his lack of fondness of the water, he was charged with sailing weeks away for Narnian land to this rocky island that seems worlds away, it too being a lesson for him to overcome his distaste for the water.
That being said, Edmund didn’t back down or look away from thrills and danger or battle or challenges. He was a young man, who had fought monsters and a witch at the age of 10. He was a seasoned warrior and king at age 13 and he’d tamed the land of Narnia with his siblings when he was just in his 4th year as King. Certainly, he would prefer a reason for a different way that didn’t involve interacting with water so directly. If there was a way.
Elizabeth sat, only momentarily next to him on the water smoothed rock ledge. Not long enough for him to turn his attention to her bared goddess-like sculptural form from the dismay luring in front of him, surging over his own naked limbs. He was however briefly reminded of the stamina and ability of Elizabeth’s body as she mounted him only several distant minutes ago. Despite her willowy limbs, he knew that the siren possessed extraordinary skill in the water, if her body had shown him a peek at her capabilities on land, what must they be in the water. Like that of a sea nymph nature, only her body was of flesh and bone and not made of water and seafoam. Edmund had experienced her incredible abilities when she had taken up the difficult task of teaching him to swim despite his reluctance and ineptness of the subject as a student. He never felt as if he were in danger of drowning or being left to the unpredictability of the water around him when she was there. Any other teacher would have had difficulties in even getting Edmund to willingly get the water go over his waist, much less have him submerge himself completely under. But Elizabeth possessed a naturalistic presence in the water, one which Edmund was in awe of. It was effortless, perfect, and beautiful, like the dance of the leaves from the spirits of the trees during the harvest. For all of his lack thereof, she made up for it 10 fold in skill.
And then, just as if she were one of the waves that had rolled in on the last crash, Elizabeth slips under the rushing water, disappearing under into the sea. Leaving the king alone. He counted the second that passes by, eyes fixed on the water, no longer hearing the sound of the waves crashing, but the sound of his head voice counting, his heart beating. ‘1… 2… 3… 4….’ After 68 he ceased counting. Taking a gasp of sea air into his burning lungs, he’d been holding his breath, as if hoping that he could keep his dependency of oxygen suppressed until the creature of the water resurfaced to take a breath of her own. He was of course competing with the nature of someone with more experience, who was a person made for such extended oxygen-depleted conditions, and who was of a different species than him altogether. Those things didn’t matter to him, he was testing himself, seeing if what she had done would be survivable for him. They were not. He knew that he would have involuntarily breathed in by now, or passed out trying to fight to break back into the surface where sky and sea collided.
It seemed an uncomfortable eternity without her. She hadn’t left him for dead, he knew that much on this rock. He could climb the rocks he’d just traversed to the cliffs above. She’d most likely been pleased to refresh herself in the water, as he would have done had there been a shallow pond or pool like he’d thought. Edmund imagined time must pass differently for eternal things like Elizabeth. Though she wasn’t exactly eternal, the siren and many other creatures in Narnian live to be ancient, and many even seemed to have eternal life when compared to the lifespan of humans. Then, from the water where she had disappeared, she emerged. Her red locks darkened into a deep red hue from being doused in the sea, her eyes, looking all the more an alluring and mystical shade of green. Edmund looked, as he always did, into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of what her body shape looked like while she was submerged in water. Did her legs become a fin once she was engulfed by the water involuntarily, or did she will them to change as it pleased her? Edmund could say with certainty, he’d never seen the change happen in front of him. He was unsure if he’d ever seen her siren form in the water or not. As a child, Edmund wondered if it was painful for her to change, like growing pains or when you have a blister. He’d never asked. It seemed a siren secret and a sensitive subject, like asking someone to tell you what your Achille's heel is. Edmund thought that perhaps when a siren’s human legs disappeared, that they might be at their most vulnerable, most easy to capture because if it was anything like a butterfly’s metamorphosis, the beauty of coming into their siren form spent them in some way.
His friend had been incredibly gracious for his foolish question when he’d first met her, “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” and so, Edmund had been cautious ever since to only ask questions of the siren wouldn’t make him abashed in the end. It seemed that the roles had been reversed, and graciously, Elizabeth had refrained from asking him the very same question. She’d been alone, a creature of nature, but Edmund had walked out, unabashed in the eyesight of many, despite the nature that clothing was most acceptable when in public.
When Elizabeth spoke, Edmund leaned forward, squinting his eyes, an insatiable desire for knowledge now. He was looking for a flash of the glimmer of a tail or the glint of flesh color beneath the water.
“Easy to catch hold of your hand and trust you, but holding my breath in, that is a different matter…” With reluctance he stood up, watching the water pushing in and out the water out roughly, however Elizabeth’s small body unfazed. She made it look so easy, she always had made it look that way, it was her allure.
Shifting his weight to his toes, the brunet was clearly biding his time, “Do you have your tail, Elizabeth?” The water gave hint or clue if she did or didn’t, concealing her form whether it be human or siren for him. Something Edmund wished to know before jumping in was if she was in human form or siren form. Why? He doubted it would make a difference if she could swim well. But to ask his trust... He felt he would feel safer if she were to keep her human legs as if to keep her from her nature of preying on vulnerable humans. However, this notion was built on fear and he distrusted the water. Her relationship with water was long-standing, part of who she was.
On the other hand, the knowledge that he swam hand and hand with a temptress, had the chance to be carefully guided and protected by someone who was going against her nature to keep his life intact, it spoke a multitude of the friendship and relationship they possessed. He was at his most vulnerable, she was as her peak. This thrill was powerful.
Shouting from the ledge, making sure she could hear every syllable of what he said, “I counted, I’m good for 70 seconds at most, Elizabeth.” Worry showed in lines on his face, not in her abilities but his own. He didn’t factor in what physical excursion might take away in seconds, nor what his racing heartbeat would. His chest was rising and falling with apprehension, but he took in a breathe.
Jumping from the rocky ledge into the surf, the King missed his mark, overreaching to where the siren was in the water. He struggled, waves already claiming hold of him, ready to keep him pulled under as it were to drag him out to sea. The entrance to Elizabeth’s grotto was well protected from people like Edmund in that way. With arms outstretched, groping in the chaos of the water all around him, the king felt for any handhold to grasp on, though his object was in fact to seek out Elizabeth’s hand. Subconsciously, he knew it would be her to find him and not him to find her. Left and right and up and down were all but a disoriented jumble, and seeing in the water was impossible. He’d started counting down the moment he’d jumped off the rock, in one way to keep himself calm, in another as count down on knowing just how much consciousness he had left.
‘66..65..”
@brokenxbeautyxx
