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Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the crown prince of his kingdom, was well known for many things: his aloof nature toward everyone that came to court, the seething passive aggressiveness within his polite demeanor he showed to even the noble class, his sickly handsome visage, making his face look like marble. Smooth, cold and pale, in both looks and personality many would claim the prince to be made of stone.
It wasn’t wrong to say that he thought himself above the people, perhaps even above humans in general. He used to be found only deep within the castle, holed up with books or writing. This had recently changed to the court's delight, as Fyodor left the castle more often. In the early hours of the morning, when the sun would only begin to rise, and once night would start falling he’d disappear. Nobody ever managed to follow him wherever he went.
Fyodor would sneak out of the castle, find his way to the cliff, on which the castle was perched upon. There, a narrow staircase led down beneath to a little secluded beach. No person ever came here as it was right beneath the castle and; there were too many rocks and too much shade to enjoy the beach. But this was perfect for Fyodor, because it meant this place was untouched save from his visits. He used to come much more rarely, so the castle staff didn’t even know of him leaving, but recently he had a new… incentive.
One evening, as the sun set, he saw something jump from the water. It was brief and barely visible, but he was certain he had seen a black and white tail glimmering iridescent in the orange light of the sunset, and long, braided white hair. He’d even caught a glimpse of a manic grin and two-toned eyes, brighter than he had ever seen on anyone before.
Fyodor was mesmerized. He would do anything to see the strange creature again.
He did research on it, as much as he could, and learned of the creature's origin. A Siren: merfolk that lure sailors to drown with their mesmerizing voices. For a moment he scoffed, who would be hypnotized by mere singing? People truly proved to be weak. Nevermind that, he knew what the creature was, he could find it again. He didn’t quite know yet what he’d do with the creature. He’d start slowly, talking and learning about its kind from the source.
One evening, he went down the narrow staircase, concealing himself with a cape, so he wouldn’t be easily recognized as the prince. The only thing giving him away as being from the castle is the royal sigil stitched on the cloak: a raven with its wings spread surrounded by rose thorns. He sat on a rock, the waves crashing against it, almost reaching out and pulling him down by his boots as he stared out with a vigilant eye.
Tonight Fyodor was lucky. As the sun set he saw the Siren spring up again; he could recognize those faintly glowing mismatched eyes anywhere. Without hesitation Fyodor's cloak flew off as he jumped into the water, to follow the creature into the depth. Despite his frail body and weak disposition, Fyodor was not a bad swimmer, rather quick underwater, not as fast as the siren, but he might get the creature's attention.
He did. An iridescent tail wrapped around him, followed by a pair of strong arms holding and lifting him above water. Fyodor took a deep breath and then was face to face with the captivating eyes, seeing them for the first time; one shone and shimmered golden like the sun at noon while the other was an almost sickly pale bluish color with the pupil contrasting dark like a pin. They had a curious look in them as the siren stared at Fyodor.
“I found you.” Fyodor broke the silence, his voice a little raspy from his earlier stunt. The siren's eyes grew wider for a moment before it— he broke into loud, boisterous laughter. The Prince found himself standing on the shore once more, next to the cloak, looking down at the raven in its emblem.
The siren had a wide smile, teeth a little too sharp. “I didn’t know someone was looking for me!” His voice was playful in nature, light and airy. It was as if it jumped around, hard to predict just what the sound of the next word would be.
“What is your name, siren? Where do you come from?” Fyodor was naturally curious, he picked his cloak back up and covered himself in it once more. He was cold from the water and the sun set behind the sirens, illuminating the bright silver locks.
The sea creature answered immediately, Fyodor watched as the other looked him up and down, sizing him up, “Why, Nikolai is what I’m most called, and I’m from the depths! What about you, human?” he tilted his head, still grinning unnaturally.
The answer, naturally, only raised more questions than answers… and what he wanted was answers. That was fine, he’d get them eventually. “Fyodor Dostoyevsky, at your service.” He even bowed politely as he was taught, one arm folded behind him, the other in front of him. In contrast to Nikolai’s bright face, Fyodor’s was stone cold.
Before Fyodor could ask any of his questions, Nikolai spoke up. For once his voice was slow and heavy. “Fyodor…” Perhaps it wasn’t even meant for Fyodor’s ears, the siren just muttering to himself, but it reached him nonetheless, he froze. Although they’d just met, it was very different from how the other spoke— more deliberate, more melodic. Fyodor simply didn’t know how to react.
This meeting led the young prince to visit much more frequently, anticipating when the siren would be present. Though Nikolai would try to be erratic, to have a system that wasn’t really a system, Fyodor easily saw through it.
The Siren would be there when the tides were high, crashing against the cliffs.
“What is it that you eat?”
“Simple: meat.”
“Human?”
“You do look rather tasty.”
He would be there when the full moon shone down and hit the small beach just right.
“What are other sirens like?”
“Boring. What are other humans like?”
“...Boring.”
Nikolai would be there when the birds flew over the sea and returned from wherever it was they spent winter.
Whenever the siren was present, the prince wouldn’t be far. It was during one summer day, Fyodor’s cloak heavy and hot on his shoulders, he asked a question, he’s been itching to ask.
“Can you sing for me?” Because the prince needed to hear theNikolai’s song; He was above men and wouldn’t fall to doom like the stories told. Nikolai’s voice was already like a song and he was hardly enchanted by it. The siren looked at him, an eyebrow raised above the piercing blue eye.
“Sing?” It was hard to tell, but Fyodor knew that Nikolai knew what he was asking for, Nikolai couldn’t act stupid and pretend he didn’t, yet Fyodor would humor him.
“The stories say a siren’s song brings sailors to ruin. I wish to hear this fabled song.” The prince seemed exasperated to be humoring the siren like that, but perhaps it was worth seeing the other grin as he did, even if Fyodor’s own expression didn’t change.
“There’s no fun if you expect it,” was the answer he received. The Siren’s blue eye piercing through him was hard to decipher. The pupil in that eye is left so small, it made Fyodor look into a cold ocean with no way to tell what Nikolai was feeling. Nikolai also has taken to covering the golden eye, warm like the sun, as if it is a treasure to be kept away. Fyodor felt fortunate to have seen that treasure. “I’ll surprise you with my song when I feel like it,'' Nikolai cheekily adds. It felt like Nikolai thought him a fool for wanting to hear the song, but that must be wrong, Fyodor thought the Siren the fool instead.
In the end he didn’t press the question. Fyodor supposed he could wait longer; he was a patient man after all.
…
“You said you’re from the depths, what are they like?”
“Spooky and Dark~”
“...”
“Alright, just dark. Just a lot of darkness.”
The castle staff started getting concerned with how little time the crown prince spent at the castle.
“I want to ask a question! What is that?”
“The emblem of my kingdom.”
“Why do you wear it?”
“Because I am cold.”
Then One day, as Fyodor descended the stairs, during noon as the sun shone down and the birds returned from their flight, he heard singing. The voice he had gotten to know so well, unpredictable and playful, was calm. Still airy, like the voice itself was just a part of the gentle sound of the breeze. Fyodor walked a little faster to the shore.
Nikolai was turned away from the coast and not even close by. That was the case often, sometimes he just liked soaking up the sun of the surface, like a human would do, even if Fyodor was certain the bright sun blinded him. Fyodor kept walking, now into the water.
The further he walked, the heavier his steps got. His boots dragged heavy and slow in the water, his cloak began to soak up water and drag him further. The fur matting as it got drenched and eventually even the emblem submerging. The raven seemed as if trying to free itself of the wreath of rose thorns and the water starting to cover it.
He could turn around, of course he could. He simply did not want to and slowly noticed that the siren, Nikolai, was further away than anticipated. Nikolai turned around and Fyodor glimpsed a bright, wild smile and saw a blinding sun. Until Fyodor couldn’t keep his head above water as the ground under his feet was too deep to take another step and sank.
At first he started trying to save himself, but his cloak, heavy as it was, brought too much of a challenge, even ridding himself of it would be futile, as he was too deep and too far away from shore. He looked again into the direction he was originally swimming, still going toward Nikolai.
Fyodor looked into the siren’s face. For once in his life, he was unable to come up with words to describe the expression on the other. He lost consciousness from the lack of air. All turned dark, yet he couldn't help but stare, right into the warm sun.
So the fool was left alone in the depths, the sun shimmering lonely onto the empty beach.