Chapter Text
The kingdom of Aurelia was known for two things: its unwavering prosperity and the relentless sea that bordered its lands. For generations, Aurelia's people had thrived, their lives intertwined with the ocean’s bounty and beauty. Yet, the same sea that sustained them was known to be unpredictable, prone to tempests that lashed at the cliffs and whipped the waves into a frenzy.
Prince Castor often found himself on these cliffs, gazing out over the endless expanse of blue. His court knew of his love for the sea, calling it a mere curiosity or perhaps a prince’s harmless pastime. But for Castor, it was more—a yearning he could never fully explain, a whisper that seemed to call him every evening, beckoning him to the shore below.
One autumn night, with the stars gleaming like frost overhead, Castor ventured to the beach alone, wrapped in a thick cloak against the sea breeze. The night was quiet, save for the rhythmic pulse of waves brushing against the sand. But as he wandered along the shore, he froze, hearing something new.
A song.
It drifted over the water, soft and haunting, its melody curling through the air like the mist that hung over the sea. The voice was unlike any Castor had ever heard. It was filled with sorrow, like someone mourning something precious they could never regain. And yet, beneath that sorrow, there was a warmth—a gentleness that felt as comforting as it was heart-wrenching.
Castor’s heart tightened in his chest, as if it recognized something he couldn’t name. Compelled by the song, he moved closer to the waves, eyes scanning the dark water for any sign of who—or what—might be singing. But the shore was empty, and no one was in sight.
The prince’s pulse quickened. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice soft but firm. Only the melody answered, unwavering, tugging at his very soul.
He waited, wondering if the singer would reveal themselves. Part of him was nervous, aware of the dangers lurking in the sea’s depths. His advisors had warned him about the legends surrounding these shores: tales of spirits, creatures of beauty and deception who could lure even the wisest of men into ruin. He’d heard of sirens who charmed sailors, their voices irresistible, their beauty both a gift and a curse.
But this voice—this voice felt different.
“I’m not afraid,” Castor murmured, as if speaking to the ocean itself. “Please, let me see you.”
The song faltered, and for a moment, silence filled the air. Just as he began to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing, the water rippled. A figure emerged, a silhouette against the moonlit waves. Castor’s breath caught, his heart racing in anticipation and awe.
The figure moved closer, and as the water lapped away from him, Castor saw who it was—a young man, standing just beyond the reach of the shore. His hair was dark, cascading in loose waves over his shoulders, and his skin held an otherworldly luminescence, as if he’d been shaped from starlight and seawater. His eyes, a shade of green that mirrored the ocean, locked onto Castor with an intensity that was both curious and cautious.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Castor was transfixed, drawn to this stranger in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t need to ask who—or rather, what—this man was. The siren’s song had already told him.
The siren regarded Castor with a guarded look, though his eyes softened as they took in the prince’s face. “You…heard my song,” he said, his voice lower than when he’d been singing, though still carrying that same enchanting quality.
“Yes,” Castor replied, struggling to keep his voice steady. “It’s…beautiful.”
The siren’s lips curved into a faint smile, and Castor felt a warmth spread through him, surprising him with its intensity. “Few would say that,” the siren replied, a hint of sadness in his tone.
“Why not?” Castor asked, taking a tentative step closer. He wanted to understand this mysterious creature, to learn why his song had carried such sorrow.
The siren looked away, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. “Because beauty, in my world, is a weapon. A lure. Something meant to take, not give.” He paused, glancing back at Castor. “Humans…they fear what they don’t understand.”
Castor felt a pang of empathy. He could see the weight of the siren’s words etched in his face, a deep-rooted sorrow Castor instinctively wanted to soothe. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
The siren tilted his head, surprise flickering in his eyes. “And yet, you do not run,” he murmured, as if this realization surprised him. “You know what I am, don’t you?”
Castor nodded, meeting the siren’s gaze without flinching. “You’re…a siren. But I don’t believe you mean me harm.”
The siren studied him for a long moment, as if assessing the truth in his words. Then, to Castor’s relief, he relaxed slightly, a glimmer of trust sparking in his eyes. “I am called Percy,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “And I…don’t wish to harm you. I’ve been alone for too long to wish for company I could never keep.”
“Then maybe you don’t have to be alone,” Castor offered, his voice filled with a quiet hope. He felt something fragile and precious taking root between them, a connection that felt as old as the sea itself.
Percy looked at him, a mix of surprise and gratitude in his expression. But a shadow of doubt crossed his face, a reminder of the world he came from. “I can’t stay,” he said softly, sadness evident in his tone. “The sea…it binds me. It’s a part of me in ways I can’t break free from.”
Castor felt a sting of disappointment but nodded, understanding. He knew it was impossible for Percy to forsake the ocean; it was as much a part of him as the land was a part of Castor.
“Then…will you let me come here?” Castor asked. “Just to see you again?”
Percy hesitated, his gaze searching Castor’s face. Finally, he nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “If you are willing to return, then…yes. I will be here.”
A sense of joy surged through Castor. He’d found something rare and precious, something that defied the world he knew, and he couldn’t bring himself to let it go so easily.
They stood in silence for a while, the waves lapping gently at Percy’s feet. The moonlight cast a silver glow over them, and Castor felt, for the first time in his life, truly at peace.
Finally, Percy spoke, his voice barely a murmur. “The night is ending. You should go, before the tides change.”
Castor nodded reluctantly, feeling the weight of their separation already pressing on him. “I’ll be back,” he promised.
Percy gave him a solemn look, his green eyes reflecting the depths of the ocean. “I’ll wait for you,” he whispered.
And with that, he melted back into the waves, his form vanishing beneath the water’s surface, leaving Castor alone on the shore.
As Castor turned back toward his kingdom, his heart felt both full and achingly empty. He knew he had found something he couldn’t fully keep, a beauty and sorrow that would haunt him forever. Yet, as he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel that he was leaving a part of himself behind with Percy—left among the waves, in the hands of a siren with a song as eternal as the sea.