by Renard, Loki
I go into the pen and look for a more likely candidate. One breaks from the pod and swims up to me. Either it likes me, or it smells cake better than the rest.
“Hello, dolphin,” I say. “How are you?”
I have learned that dolphins are more like people than they are like fish. They’re very like people in the sense that if they don’t like you, they won’t do anything for you.
“Please,” I say, running my hand over the animal’s smooth skin. “Take me to the surface. I need to see the sun again.”
It makes a clicking, nickering sound and wags its body. It’s telling me no. I know that somehow, even though I don’t know how I know.
“Please,” I beg. “I have no way of reaching the world above besides you. And I have something for you too.”
The dolphin does not acquiesce, and I know there is no way to force it to swim.
But there might be a way to bribe it.
“I brought cake,” I say, showing the dolphin a little food. It opens its scaled mouth and I see the almost human tongue inside. These things are not quite animal. I suppose no animals on Okeanus are truly beast-like, and the dolphins are wiser and more knowledgeable than most. But they do have a weakness. They like their food.
I give the dolphin a small piece of cake. It eats it down by throwing its head back with evident enjoyment and nuzzles me for more.
“No more,” I say. “Not unless you take me to the surface.”
It doesn’t want to take me, but it also wants cake. But it doesn’t want to take me. But it also wants cake. And in the end, cake wins. Cake always wins.
We leave the stable compound and head toward the surface in circling movements. There is no direct ascent, there is a dreamlike wafting ever upwards. I think this is better, a gradual escape rather than a panicked flight.
Every now and then I toss a little cake up and the dolphin darts for it. The lights of Undersea begin to recede, and the darkness of the middle waters envelops us. This is the part of the sea where there is no light at all.
It is rather eerie and very unsettling, so I am relieved when I see a bright light drawing near. Perhaps it is a mer-vessel of some kind. I throw cake in the direction of the light and the dolphin leads me toward it.
It is not a mer-vessel. It is, or are, teeth.
Rows of teeth. Sharp and angular, descending from the roof and floor of a jagged mouth. Each of them is needle sharp and longer than I am tall, and at the back of them is a flailing eyeless snake of a tongue wriggling around like a lure.
I realize, almost too late, that I am in the process of being eaten by something so much larger than myself that I wasn’t able to perceive it. The dolphin realizes this at the same time and darts away at the last moment, slipping through the closing jaws just in the nick of time. I hurl the last remnants of cake into the monster’s mouth, as a bright ray emerges from my frightened form, illuminating the depths with my panicked godly powers.
I wish that wasn’t what happened when I am scared, mostly because it lets me see the monster a little better. It is the size of my father’s palace, but it floats in the water like a big evil rock, beady little eyes and rocky protrusions all over made horrific by its sheer size. There is a thin antenna arching over its head, and the light which drew me is suspended from it, a glow hiding the infinite darkness awaiting any who dare seek it. This ocean beast is almost entirely mouth, that gaping chasm propelled by comically sized fins now working overtime to move that monstrosity onto its next victim.
The dolphin does not like what it sees any more than I do. With a swish of its tail, we are a good distance away from the slow moving beast, which does not chase us but continues slowly on its way, luring in the unwary.
“That was a close call,” I tell the dolphin. “We cannot be eaten before I get to the surface. I will never hear the end of it if we are both consumed.”
My dolphin mount clicks in agreement and propels us ever upward. I dim my light so we may not be seen, but that leaves us once more in the dark.
And then I feel eyes.
It is strange how these human senses come to the fore in times like these, but I absolutely feel myself being watched. Tingles of fear prickle along the back of my neck and run all the way down my spine.
We have encountered one dangerous beast already. I am not prepared to deal with another. But it is not my decision. The ocean’s perils are not under my control, and I am painfully aware of that now. Triton’s warnings ring in my ears, the ultimate I told you so.
The dolphin feels the threat too. It swirls around and tries to retreat from whatever may be lurking in the dark, refusing to show itself, hunting us in silence, but it is too late.
The darkness is moving faster than me and my plucky little dolphin steed. I stare wide-eyed as a shape emerges from the shadows. Sleek and sharp, agile and nasty. It is the shape of death.
The dolphin lets out a cry of fear. I am used to chirps and clicks and nickers. I am not used to hearing dolphins scream. The dolphin starts to buck and swim and squirm, and staying atop it is not easy. Nearby, I see flashes of gray skin spread over a musculature of death and rows of teeth set at a threatening angle.
“SHARK!”
We are both panicking now, me and the dolphin alike. I cling to it with all my strength as it puts on an incredible burst of speed and heads down, down toward Undersea.
“Wrong way! Wrong bleeding way!”
“LUCY!”
Triton’s roar cuts through the waters. I feel a rush of relief, knowing that rescue is coming. Then I realize that the shark is being ridden. I am not just being hunted by a soulless killing beast. I am also being followed by the king of the seas, the one person I seem unable to fool. Ever.
A massive mouth of floating death and the appearance of a shark were one thing, but Triton is the straw which breaks the dolphin’s nerve. It bucks me free and heads for the depths like a frightened torpedo, and I am left floating before the jaws of a great shark, which is still slightly less frightening than the king atop it.
Without another word, Triton guides the animal around through the water and scoops me up in one powerful arm. I am pulled against his body and I feel the water streaming around me as he heads his toothy mount toward Undersea.
I am in trouble.
The big kind of trouble. The kind of trouble where the king of the ocean won’t even say a single word to you as he drags you back home in disgrace aboard a shark.
* * *
Triton releases me near the palace, dismounts his shark, and sends it on its way with a scratch to its chin. I drift away a few feet before being roped back in by one of his infernal bonds. I know how this evening will end —in a whimpering, squirming, perhaps pleasurable, but certainly pain-ridden package.
Triton reels me in and pulls me close, one hand underneath my chin, his eyes locked on mine with aquamarine intensity.
“I’ve told you once. I’ve told you a hundred times. I know when you leave this place,” he tells me. “And I will always find you. Always.”
His words are comforting and threatening all at the same time. He found me and rescued me from danger, but his choice of sea-mount says it all. He is the danger.
Triton’s bindings are instruments of his will. I thought the first time he put them on me that they were nothing more than magical ropes. But they are more than that. Much more. I feel them start to wind up around my legs and waist seemingly of their own accord. Their movement is slow, but certain. I try to argue as they work their way up my body, claiming me with his will, reminding me of his eternal grasp, his infinite desire for me, and only me.
“I had to see.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You were lying to me. I knew you were. I wanted to see what was happening.”
“And what if what was happening was hundreds dead, everything you knew destroyed, and your family hidden somewhere among it all, fighting for their very souls?”
“Then you should have told me that, not
some fairytale lie.”
“I told you what you needed to hear to keep you here, but it didn’t work.”
“I want the truth from you, Triton.”
His ties have reached my waist, wrapped themselves around my inner thighs and beneath the curve of my bottom. Their touch is his touch, transformed.
I feel him bristle. I see his eyes roll black, like those of a shark, and when he speaks it is with the authority of the ages.
“This is the truth,” he growls. “The truth is this is a world at war, and there have been losses and will be more. The truth is, you are the last pure line of your family. You are the only child of the sun and you must be protected at all costs. You have been told that over and over, but you refuse to submit. So you will be made to.”
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been scared of Triton, but I am scared of him now. I know I’ve gone too far. I threw his indulgence in his face and now there is nothing of his limited mercy left.
Now I see the true face of Triton, the master of the ocean, the unbound elemental god in whose waters life arose, and to whose waters so many lives are returned.
“There’s nothing for you up there,” he says. “Not until the war ends.” He looks at me and there is sadness in his dark gaze. “I need to contain you, Lucy, for your own good. I don’t want to hurt or punish you. There is enough hurt happening already. But I am going to teach you a lesson, and I am going to contain you. I will do anything to keep you safe, Lucy. Anything.”
As he speaks, his bindings continue to do his work. They creep up over my breasts and toward my neck and then they wind around my throat. Not tight enough to choke, but enough to hold me like a collar. I am caught thoroughly and completely.
“I can’t let you go,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, but you have to stay down here, Lucy. This is the only place you have any chance of being safe.”
“What is happening up there? Tell me the truth, Triton.”
“The truth is, I do not know. I breached the waters and I looked out over a battlefield the likes of which I have not seen in thousands of years. The dead are many, and the enemy is strong. Entity is yet to be defeated. That is all I can truly tell you, apart from the fact that there is no place you can be safer than with me.”
Triton
It’s not about keeping her safe anymore. It’s about keeping her under control. I cannot trust her out of my sight. Ever. I thought she might learn to be a happy captive, but obviously that is not the case. Lucy is going to have to become my prisoner.
My bindings have already woven much of their work, created a collar and a leash by which to keep her in my grasp. It is a lot, but I need even more control for this one whose humanity makes her defiant, and whose divinity makes it impossible for her to give up. When one wishes to stop a god, one must resort to extreme measures.
I lead her not up to the bedrooms where our previous engagements have taken place. Instead, I go down, down below the crust of the earth, down into old tunnels carved by lava now receded and hollowed out over the years by various monstrosities, myself included.
“What is this place, Triton?”
There is a tremor in her voice, and well there should be. It is natural for the sun to have a terror of the dark. Down in this place, it is her heavenly body which provides the light. The deeper we go, and the more afraid she becomes, the brighter she glows.
She will not like this place. This is a realm of confinement and punishment. The closest thing we gods have to a prison.
Lucy
“Where are we?”
“Your new home.”
“This is a dungeon.”
The walls are close, the passages are windy, and the particular chamber we just entered has a bed and nothing else besides a barred door.
“Yes. It is,” he says. “This is where you belong. This is where you will stay. And this is where I am going to punish you. Properly.”
“Triton…”
“Don’t say my name that way. Don’t beg for my mercy now. You have done nothing to deserve it. At every turn, you have tried to put yourself in harm’s way. There is nothing I can do by reasonable means to convince you to stay in the safety of the palace, so I will lock and bind you here.”
I know he is angry. What makes it worse is the fact that I don't think he wanted to do this. This is one last ditch effort to keep me from leaving. My last escape effort has turned him from a loving guardian to an outright jail keeper. He doesn’t want to be that kind of god. But he will be. For me.
We are locked at odds, and there is nothing that can change that besides the end of the war. I shouldn’t feel flattered or more cared for than ever, but I do. I know every bit of pain he intends to inflict has a purpose, even if it is ultimately pointless.
That is why I do not resist when he commands me to lie down on the bed. It is why I relax into the ties around my wrists and ankles and throat, accept them and my fate.
“You are so beautiful,” Triton says. He is standing over me, so completely dominant here in the dark. “But beautiful is not all you are. You are precious in many ways. You are unique in breeding, character, and in your own sweet soul.”
Triton
Lucy has made two attempts at escape. There will not be a third. She is my prisoner. I have now thrown off all pretense of being anything more than a captor. I wanted her as a lover. I craved her as a mate. But if I have to keep her locked up, then that is how it will be.
I am not angry with her. I am actually impressed at her wit, her fortitude, and her determination. She has the soul of a warrior, but the body of a pretty wench, and it is her body I will claim, even if her spirit cannot be broken.
I will punish her because she expects to be punished, and it will have to be an extraordinary punishment. One which absolves her of her misbehavior, which is greater than she truly understands.
“You could have died,” I tell her. “You could have died a hundred times over. There is no telling what Entity is doing up there. You have to understand, Lucy. That swarm attacking our world is pure humanity, and there is nothing in the universe more depraved and vicious than humanity.”
“Except gods.”
“Except gods,” I agree. “But this is not a war of gods. It is a war of gods and men and you are destined to be caught in the middle if you will not stay clear.”
She stays quiet. Either she is trying to submit, or she is already planning another attempt at escaping to the surface. There is no way to tell what is going on in her head, and I know there is no chance of honesty between us now. I will make my marks on her flesh and that will have to do.
I have taken my ties and turned them into a lash. I swing it in her field of vision, limited as it is by her prone position.
“What is that?”
“It is a smaller version of what sailors used to call a cat-o-nine tails. It was used to punish recalcitrant crew who wouldn’t follow orders. It’s what you deserve.”
Her eyes are wide and concerned, as well they might be.
“This is going to hurt,” I tell her.
I expect her to beg for mercy or stridently tell me I have no right to use this on her, but she doesn’t say anything at all. For a moment, I wonder if I have set a silence charm on her again, but she is fully able to speak. She has chosen not to.
I reach for her and flip her over. Face down. Ass up.
Lucy
His lash cuts through the air with an audible swoosh, and it suddenly strikes me that unlike Undersea, this prison is not an underwater realm. There is no water to slow the cords he’s wound together, and they come down with an unholy sound, a multiple whoosh of impending doom which terminates in a half dozen individual little biting impacts.
I cry out, just as he wants me to. Triton needs to feel as though he has successfully imposed his will on me, and I intend to help him feel that way.
“Owww!”
The lash falls.
“Ouch!”
The lash falls.
&nbs
p; “Oh my gods!”
The lash falls.
“Oh nooooo!”
The lash falls.
“Ow! I’m dying!”
He stops and runs the strands of the lash between his hands. “You’re laying it on thick, aren’t you, my brat princess.”
“Well, it actually hurts,” I say. “It does. A lot. I’m very sore. Terribly. Really. Ow.”
Sarcasm is not the way to go either. The truth is, my ass is stinging like hell. That kitty has claws and I am going to be feeling the effects of them for a very long time. But that’s not all that matters. There’s only so far the effects of physical punishment can go when you are a rebellious goddess.
He snaps the lash back down again, another half-dozen of those terrible stings finding the tender parts of my ass.
“I can make this hurt a lot more, Lucy.”
He can, but not more than being separated from my family hurts. Not more than feeling completely useless in the most fundamental ways hurts. He is making my skin react, but I am beyond caring about what happens to my body.
The lash lands a third time and this time my yowl isn’t one of pretense. He is using a lot more force than before, though I know it is still a fraction of what he has to impart. He could obliterate me if he so desired, but it is in his best interests to keep me in one piece. Can’t fuck my scattered remnants.
I snort with dark laughter at the thought. I never used to be dark. I never used to think such things, let alone find them amusing.
“What is it now?” Triton pulls the lashes back and toys with them again, swinging them through the air. “Something funny, Lucy?”
“Nothing is funny,” I whimper. “I’m pathetic, and the only reason you’re tolerating me is because I’m pretty.”
“That is not true,” he growls. “I love you, Lucy. I have loved you from the moment I first brought you to Undersea a year ago. You are not pathetic. You frighten me because I know you can break free of my hold if you really want to, and because I know that you are brave enough to hurt yourself in the process. I’m not whipping you because you're pathetic. I’m whipping you because you damn well need it.”