The throne chamber of Submareth gleamed with cold fire.
Pillars carved of coral and obsidian stretched into the abyss, schools of silver fish scattering like sparks around them.
At its center, coiled upon her dais of pearl and bone, Thalassaria lounged in a posture that was both regal and predatory, her eyes fixed on Caedrion with the same possessive adoration as the day she had first claimed him.
He stood before her, not kneeling, not cowering, but with careful stillness, the posture of a man who had learned the art of balancing blades.
"My queen," he began, his voice even, though the weight of her gaze pressed down like the ocean itself.
"I have abided here. I have learned your ways, your history, your strength. And I do not deny that you have shown me a love as fierce as it is... unrelenting."
Her smile curled, sharp teeth flashing. "Unrelenting, yes. Because it is real."
He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the truth of it.
"And because it is real, I must ask you now to consider more than desire. You know I come from beyond your waves. My bloodline, my family, my people... they need me. If I vanish forever, the empire above will falter. It will weaken. And though you may not care for them, what good is a king-consort if the land he hails from collapses into ruin?" Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel•fire.net
The coils around her throne shifted, restless. The sea itself seemed to tighten. "You dare speak of leaving me?"
"I dare speak of returning," he corrected swiftly, his voice sharp as a knife.
"And returning again. Do you not see? You have your throne, your seas, your storms. But imagine if you had more. Trade. Industry. An empire of men bound to the sea not in fear but in reverence. Imagine fleets built not to defy you but to serve you. Imagine a people who speak your name not as myth, but as sovereign."
Thalassaria tilted her head, hair drifting like a silken net. Her eyes narrowed, weighing.
Caedrion pressed the advantage.
"If you keep me caged here, yes, you will have my body. But nothing else. I will wither, and all that I am beyond these waters will fade. But if you let me return, if you trust me, I can give you more than a husband in your bed. I can give you an empire that bends knee not only to me, but to you."
For a long moment, silence. The only sound was the groan of the abyssal currents.
Then Thalassaria uncoiled from her dais, drifting forward until her face hovered inches from his.
Her voice was a whisper, dangerous and longing all at once. "And what promise do I have, little guppy, that you would ever return to me once you are free?"
Caedrion’s heart hammered. He forced himself not to flinch, not to falter.
"Because I know what awaits me here. Because no man could ever forget the queen who commands the sea itself. And because if I am wise, and I strive to be, I know the future belongs not to the land or the sea, but to both. With you at my side, I can rule both realms. Without you, I can rule neither."
Her eyes widened, not with disbelief, but with hunger.
A shiver ran through the chamber, a thrill of the waves themselves.
She seized his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his, her coils tightening around him in a vice of silk and steel.
Her whisper trembled with something almost fragile: "Then swear it. Swear you will return to me, no matter what binds you above."
Caedrion closed his eyes. This is madness. This is survival. This is destiny.
"I swear," he said.
And the sea roared in answer.
The roar of the sea faded into silence. For a long while neither spoke, her coils still wound tight around him, her gaze a storm of hunger and triumph.
Then, as if catching herself, Thalassaria uncoiled, drawing back with a flick of her serpentine tail. She draped herself across her throne, chin resting on her hand, eyes narrowing into slits of calculation.
"You speak of empire, guppy," she purred. "Of men who kneel to me, of fleets bound not by fear but by devotion. You tempt me with dreams of crowns not forged of pearl, but iron and fire."
Her smile curved, sharp as coral. "But what do you truly offer me? You, who cannot even leave my seas without my will?"
Caedrion steadied his breathing. This was the crux, the moment where words would matter more than blades.
"What I offer is not only myself, but the keys to what you already desire."
Her eyes flickered with interest. "Oh? And what is it I desire, little land-born?"
"You want what lies in the ruins," he said evenly.
"The remnants of the Eidolons. You speak of me as your consort, your prize, but I see the way you study me when I wield the Architect’s light. You hunger not only for my body, Thalassaria. You hunger for my blood, my power, the inheritance that lets me awaken what none of your kind can touch."
Her smile froze, then deepened into something darker. She sat up straighter, her coils shifting restlessly. "You are bold, to say such things aloud."
"Boldness is survival," Caedrion said.
"You left that artifact on my bath ledge for a reason. You wanted me drawn here. You wanted me bound not only to your side, but to the legacy buried beneath these waves. Am I wrong?"
Thalassaria tilted her head, the teal glow of her leylines brightening across her skin.
For a heartbeat he thought she might strike him down where he stood. Then, to his surprise, she laughed, a sound half joy, half exasperation.
"You see too much, little guppy. Too much for your own good."
She leaned forward, her hair drifting in the water like a black veil.
"Yes. I seek the ruins. I always have. Since before your empire was fire and dust, I have scoured the trenches and rifts, seeking doors that will not open, stones that will not yield. They were not made for me. They were made for you, for the Architect’s line. And now the blood I need floats in my hall, wearing my crown."
Caedrion inclined his head, though his heart hammered.
"Then we are of one mind. You need me to reach what you cannot. I need you if I am to return to my people alive. So let us bargain."
The word hung in the water like a forbidden spell. Naga did not bargain; they commanded. Yet Thalassaria’s coils stilled, and her eyes gleamed.
"Speak your terms," she said.
Caedrion drew a breath.
"I will not remain here forever. My wife, my family, my people, they must see me return, or rebellion will break the order I’ve built. Let me go back to them. Publicly, I will not name you. I will not speak of Submareth. But in secret, I will bind my industry to yours. Trade, materials, knowledge, whatever you wish. In exchange, I will return as often as I can, and when the time comes to breach the ruins, I will stand at your side and unlock what lies within."
Thalassaria’s eyes flared teal. "And what of your land-born girl? The child in her belly? Will you still call her your wife while you lie in my coils?"
The question struck like a harpoon. Caedrion’s throat tightened, but he forced the mask to remain.
"She is my wife. She carries my heir. But you are my queen. Do not mistake the two. To the world above, I may play the dutiful husband. To the world below, I am yours."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then, slowly, Thalassaria rose from her throne, drifting closer, until her face hovered inches from his. Her voice was a hiss, trembling with equal parts wrath and longing.
"You would make yourself two men. One for the land, one for the sea. Do you think such duplicity can last, Caedrion? Do you think the Architect and the Abyssal alike will not laugh at your arrogance?"
He met her gaze, unflinching.
"I think it is the only path where we both win. If I flee, you will drag me back in chains. If I submit entirely, my land crumbles and I am nothing. But if I walk between, if I make myself the bridge between sea and land, then neither world can stand against us."
For a long while she studied him. Her expression shifted, the queen warring with the woman, the conqueror with the lover.
Finally she exhaled, coils loosening, her hair swirling around her like ink.
"You are dangerous," she whispered. "Dangerous in ways I have not tasted in millennia. And perhaps... perhaps that is why I cannot let you go."
Her hand brushed his cheek, fingers trailing down his jaw. "Very well. I will let you return. But on my terms. You will not go alone, you will carry my eyes with you, my whispers in your ear. A retinue of my chosen will guard you, unseen by your land-born. They will remind you of your oath. And when I call, you will come, no matter where you stand or what bed you lie in. Do you swear it?"
Caedrion swallowed hard.
He thought of Aelindria’s face, of her tears the night they had last lain together.
He thought of the child who would soon bear his name. And then he thought of the abyss, of the queen who ruled it, of the ruins that only his blood could open.
"I swear," he said again.
Thalassaria’s smile bloomed, sharp and radiant. She pressed her lips to his forehead, and the sea seemed to tremble around them.
"Then it is done. My king-consort of the land and the sea. Together, we will unearth the bones of the gods."
And deep beneath Submareth, in trenches no eye had seen in ten thousand years, something stirred.