InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Gods and Monsters ❯ Chapter 40: The Siren's Song ( Chapter 40 )

A/N: Much thanks to Ithilwen and Nanda for helping me be incoherent and illogical... because the situation called for it. And hugs, tea, and cookies to Everstar for being Everstar.

Chapter 40: The Siren's Song

Steer, hither steer your winged pines,
All beaten mariners!
Here lie Love's undiscover'd mines,
A prey to passengers--
Perfumes far sweeter than the best
Which make the Phoenix' urn and nest.
Fear not your ships,
Nor any to oppose you save our lips;
But come on shore,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.

For swelling waves our panting breasts,
Where never storms arise,
Exchange, and be awhile our guests:
For stars gaze on our eyes.
The compass Love shall hourly sing,
And as he goes about the ring,
We will not miss
To tell each point he nameth with a kiss.
--Then come on shore,
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.

~ "The Sirens' Song," by William Browne (1588-1643)

Teles had never sailed a ship before.

And yet, here she was, feet planted firmly on the deck, her hands gripping the wide wheel she'd frequently seen other men - doomed men - handle. Teles held on to it tightly; she wasn't sure why she had to hold on to the wheel - only that it was infinitely important she do so. It was her ship, her crew - she had to keep it and them safe.

She stared out at the vast ocean around them and felt a twinge of uneasiness in her gut. She knew these waters. Teles' hands gripped the wheel more tightly - these were dangerous waters. They'd once been her waters.

While her hands never left the wheel (it was very important she hold on to the wheel), her head whipped around to scan the boat for her crew. Ships had crews, didn't they? Teles couldn't remember entirely. She had a hazy recollection of men who'd jumped so willingly from ships. Maybe that's why she was alone. Maybe they'd all jumped.

Inuyasha. Where was Inuyasha? He said he'd help her protect the...

Teles looked down, placing a hand against her stomach and felt lightheaded suddenly as a swift rush of fear flew through her limbs.

Her abdomen was flat.

Oh, no...

She'd lost it. She'd been careless and turned her back for a moment, and lost it! Teles opened her mouth to call for someone, but her voice would not come. Her child was gone, and she was slowly drifting further and further into the Sirens' waters on a ship - alone.

No. No it wasn't possible that she was alone. Surely there had to be someone left. She drew a breath to call out, but all that formed was a tiny, teary whisper. "Help!" No. No, that would never do. Again she tried, and again her voice was absent.

"Lady Teles..." The familiar voice - smooth, deep, cultured, and yet sounding somehow... disappointed? The little monk stood before her, a saddened, mournful expression darkening his eyes. He shook his head slowly. "You've done it now."

Teles stared at him. Something was wrong. "I've what? Miroku, I-" she began, when suddenly it dawned on her. When had Miroku learned to speak Greek?

"He'll never take you back now," he broke in. "You've been quite careless, you know, losing a child like that."

"Please," she whispered, "please don't tell Inuyasha I lost it."

"Inuyasha is the least of your worries right now. Just keep the ship steady."

Teles nodded, turning her full attention back to the wheel. "Miroku, I... I didn't mean to lose it. I didn't even lose it, really. I've just... misplaced it. It's here somewhere..."

He sighed. "Oh, all right." From somewhere inside of his robes Miroku withdrew a sphere large enough to fit snugly in his cupped hand. It shone with a brilliant white light that hurt Teles' eyes. "Hold this."

"...I can't - I have to hold on to the wheel."

"Don't worry about the wheel. Just take it."

"What... is it?" she asked releasing the wooden wheel and taking the globe into her hands. She was vaguely aware of Miroku taking control of the ship, but her attention was fixed on the glass ball she held; it was warm, and the light bathing her face felt like hundreds of tiny, caressing fingers.

The monk looked at her quizzically for a moment before laughing suddenly. "Lady Teles, don't you recognize your own child? I found it for you."

"Oh..." she trailed off, lost in the indescribable beauty of that light - it moved like water in the globe, shimmering and beaming up at her. And for the first time since finding herself on that ship, she felt safe. She could take care of this child - even without Sesshoumaru. She didn't need him. She cradled the sphere close to her breast, immense relief washing over her.

"Hera can't find out about it."

"Of course not," she murmured, gazing down at the globe.

"She'll take him from you."

"I know." Miroku continued to speak, but the sound faded into silence. She looked up at him after a moment, and was shocked to find that while his mouth continued to move, she could not hear him.

No... that wasn't it at all. There was... something. Something else.

Music.

"No," she breathed. "Gods, no." Leaving Miroku at the helm of the ship, she raced to the side of the ship, gazing downwards. She almost couldn't focus for the inebriating melodies wafting their way up to her, but she saw - Sirens.

No. No, she had to protect the ship. She had to protect her child - she couldn't lose him again. She would have been scolded quite soundly if she misplaced him again. And then Hera would find out - she found out everything, didn't she? She was Hera. She just knew.

And then she would take him from her.

Fear and determination intermingled as she stepped away from the edge of the boat. She turned to find Miroku, but the monk was no longer at his post. Teles raced to the other side of the boat and looked down - had he succumbed to the Sirens?

She could see nothing.

She was alone again.

The fear that flooded her was cold and steady, and it seemed to make her limbs leaden. She had to steer the ship herself; the little monk was nowhere to be had. Steer the ship, protect the child - she still held the globe securely against her body. And still the music grew louder.

"I can't," she breathed, tears stinging her eyes. "I don't know how."

A voice came from somewhere off to her side. Teles looked and saw her father glaring disapprovingly at her. "Then you should have considered that beforehand. You know very well you haven't the slightest idea how to manage a ship. You belong in the water, not above it." His voice cut through the melodic web tightening around her.

Teles took a step away from the mighty sea god. "Father, I'm sorry - I didn't know it-"

"Didn't know?" he scoffed. "How could you not know where you belong? You belong with us. You have no business being human, and you certainly have no business bearing a beast such as this!" Poseidon reached out with a mighty hand and knocked the globe from Teles' hands.

Crying out, she raced after it as it flew through the air -arms outstretched. She caught the sphere and clutched it to her body once more.

"You've no business trying to navigate these waters, daughter. You belong with us."

"I'm not supposed to leave the ship," Teles replied lamely. "I have to stay here and make sure we get..." get where? Somewhere - it was important, wherever it was. She never finished the sentence, and her father didn't seem to notice.

"Tell me that you at least have wax."

She blinked. "Wax?"

"For your ears," her father explained impatiently.

Wax for her ears. Like those men from the ship that escaped, years ago.

She needed wax. Because... because...

She heard the music again and it reminded her.

Sirens.

Yes, of course. These are the Sirens' waters. She could almost hear their haunting melodies again.

"Yes, Father," she murmured, nodding slowly. Had the music always sounded that sweet? Tilting her head, she slowly walked toward the other side of the ship, feeling the tangy salt air cut through her hair, sending it flying wildly around her. She had to find something that could block the music, but the voices themselves were so hauntingly sweet. She could not help but listen - the tune was mournful, beseeching, and discordant. The melody alone brought tears to her eyes.

But she needed something to block her ears with - she couldn't listen to this, no matter how beautiful it was.

She couldn't listen... couldn't.

But she couldn't help but peer beyond the side of the ship, into the glistening water. And there, watching her intently as she leaned over the ship's edge...

Sesshoumaru.

The sight made Teles jerk back slightly, shaking her head. No, that wasn't right. Sesshoumaru was a youkai. Not a Siren. Sirens weren't male, after all...

However, Teles' reasoning fell flat within her. Sesshoumaru's song wound around her, the melancholy baritone dirge pulling her back towards the edge of the ship, drawing her to him, coaxing her to abandon the ship, to join him despite the risk to herself, to the sphere she held, and to the ship, of course.

Anything was better than being alone.

She looked down at the globe clutched against her breast. It was too important - too precious for her to take care of. She knew nothing about these things.

And still, Sesshoumaru's song tugged at her.

I can't. I shouldn't. I can't. The thoughts raced around her head even as she stood, the whole ocean before her, Sesshoumaru's song wrapping itself around her throat, her spine, her soul. Her arms hung limply at her sides, the sphere held in her right hand. As her lover's song threaded itself around her body and through her soul, Teles felt her grip relax.

The globe slipped from her fingers and landed on the deck with the discordant tinkle of breaking glass. Teles heard it, but could not bring herself to look as she climbed over the rail.

Closing her eyes, she jumped...

Gasping, Teles eyes flew open as she woke with a start. It was almost completely dark, and she blinked quickly as she tried to remember where she was. A cramp twisted through her abdomen suddenly and she inhaled sharply through her teeth, clenching her eyes shut. Fisting her hands tightly in the covers, Teles shifted on her side, drawing her legs up as high as she could. A small, strangled whimper was forced out of her throat as she lay there. After a moment, she managed to draw in a slow, steady breath, and as Teles' disorientation and alarm subsided, the pup's movements weakened as well. Memories flitted back to her, and before long she remembered where she was, and why she was there.

So much had happened in such a short time. She had no idea how very exhausted she'd been.

And then that dream...

One of the first things Teles realized upon waking was that her stomach was still as unwieldy as it had been - and that knowledge brought a cooling rush of relief. Moving slowly, she sat up in the comfortable bed and scrubbed at her face with her bare hands, trying to erase the lingering images from her dream. Soon she was completely awake, the dream-memories as faded as sun-bleached stones.

Teles maneuvered carefully, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the floor and she stood, placing her hands at the small of her back as she stretched, wiggling her toes in the plush carpet - such a pleasant sensation, growing less and less foreign. She was rested and comfortable - no longer did she feel thin and frayed, like a worn string. So rested and comfortable was she, in fact, that she'd nearly forgotten the letter that rested silently on the bedside table. Teles glanced down and saw the light paper folded neatly, looking for all the world like it hadn't been read and reread ten and twenty times the night before.

Blowing out a soft breath, Teles turned away from the letter; by now she knew it by heart. Instead, her eyes went to the waning moon shining through the window, bathing the room in silver shadow. Her eyes gradually grew accustomed to the light - or lack thereof - and she slowly walked the length of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if warding off an invisible chill. She paused at the window and stared out into the courtyard, her eyes fixed on the well-house.

She thought she'd managed to get away from him completely, and she'd been wrong.

Now he wanted to see her.

The haunting melody from her dream wove its way through her mind again and she shivered. Certainly she could resist Sesshoumaru. He did not have such a hold on her, did he? Did he truly relieve her of her will? She knew, as a Siren, the power her voice held - she knew that she had once had the power to relieve a man of his will. She had done it when she'd called Sesshoumaru down from the sky. She had sensed his strength, and then she had set her snare. He had seemed, at the time, a challenge - intriguing.

So, she'd sung, and he had come to her.

Teles had never considered that she would ever have to worry about such things. She'd never had to worry about her will. And yet, now it seemed to be weakening, and she had no explanation for it.

But then, if she had no will, she certainly would not have left him. She would not have come here. Her will was intact, certainly.

Then why? Why was she already considering acquiescing to his request? Obviously her will was still quite intact.

Teles stood silently by the window, her fingertips drifting across the cold glass. No, it wasn't that he controlled her will - it wasn't that at all. Need didn't fuel her actions. She did not feel inexplicably driven to see him. The fact that she was thinking about contacting Sesshoumaru had nothing to do with an inability to resist him - it was because he'd waited five hundred years to see her, and it seemed cruel to deny him such a simple request.

Wasn't it?

The former goddess exhaled hard, her breath fogging the window slightly. She turned away and looked at the mussed bed. She'd slept on and off all day - when the pup permitted, at any rate - both Kagome and her mother had insisted she get as much rest as possible. But now, the last thing she wanted to do was sleep. She had too much racing through her mind to sleep.

Sighing softly, Teles crossed the room silently and switched on the bedside lantern - no, lamp. The room was cast in a gentle illumination and Teles sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her hands for a moment. Then her eyes went again to the small bedside table where Sesshoumaru's letter lay. Teles reached over and picked it up again, unfolding it once more, and reading it - even if she'd nearly committed it to memory already. And again, as she read it, her heart contracted. She still loved him - despite her efforts to the contrary.

Running a hand through her mussed hair, Teles' eyes drifted over each painstakingly written character.

You would not be here if it were not for my foolishness.

Exhaling, she traced the characters with her fingertip. Foolishness. What happened to make him realize such a thing? Moreover - he's admitting a fault?

She knew that she didn't need to make a decision immediately, but Teles felt as if she should have been near a decision. Now she was more bewildered than she'd been before.

Of course she could resist Sesshoumaru. She had walked away from him, hadn't she?

Ah, yes. You ran away from him only to run straight towards him. Quite effective, really.

Making a soft, annoyed sound in the back of her throat, Teles dropped the letter back onto the small table. She got to her feet again and slowly walked around the cozy guest room. Her steps came to a stop as she reached the suitcase Sesshoumaru had sent for her. It was on the floor, set on its side. Kagome had recommended she unpack once she felt up to it, pointing out the closet and chest of drawers designed to hold clothes.

It was something to do, if nothing else. And Teles' curiosity was piqued - what else was in there? Her fingertips found her cuffs and worried the soft material lightly, still amazed that Sesshoumaru had picked such a thing out for her, considering how things went the last time he presented her with clothes.

She slowly lowered herself to her knees and eased the suitcase open. The clothes were still neatly folded and slowly, one by one, Teles pulled the strange garments out, holding them out and admiring them before reaching over to set them on the bed next to her. The clothes were lovely - the colors spanned a variety of shades, and the material was inconceivably soft. There were several sets of... what had Kagome called them? Ah, yes. "Pajamas."

She was quite relieved to find not a single kimono among the clothing.

A few of the garments puzzled the former goddess, but she admired them for their colors and textures. In a side compartment, she found several sets of leather foot-coverings, which, while strange, were inexplicably appealing.

"I don't need to see him," she murmured to herself as she held out a garment that looked as if it were made to go over her torso. It was woven with the softest yarn she'd ever felt, and was the color of the sky on a mid-summer day. "I'm quite capable of doing this on my own. It's not as if I've never been deposited in a strange place before." Of course, she added silently, her lips quirking to the left, it was slightly different then. Things do tend to be easier when you're immortal.

She pulled out another garment. They looked almost like hakama, but did not tie at the sides, nor were they made out of linen. Her brow knitted into a perplexed frown as she felt the material stretch slightly. "Then again," she said softly, pursing her lips for a moment, "he did wait five hundred years." That's quite a while, even in the life of a youkai. She folded the odd hakama neatly and set them on the bed with the rest of the clothes.

Taking a deep breath, Teles continued to work her way through the suitcase, turning the matter over in her mind. She had nearly come to the bottom as she reached in again, pulling out a soft, white square of material. She held it up, letting it fall open. "And his letter did seem to admit his faults. But can I really risk..."

The words died in Teles' throat as she stared transfixed at the final item from the suitcase. The small square of woven material had fallen open into a larger square, completely plain save for one corner, which was embellished with delicate embroidery.

In that corner, several achingly familiar blossoms were outlined in red stitching, and each held within a red, six-sided box, the boxes all arranged in an oval. And there, at the center of the design, was a small, blue crescent moon.

And then it hit her.

It was a baby blanket.

A fine tremor began in the center of Teles' chest, like a plucked string whose vibrations only grow more intense. She was shaking - trembling, but not with fear or anger. She could not adequately categorize the emotions racing through her at that moment; she only knew that she felt strangely... detached. It was almost as if she'd been watching someone else making this realization.

The letter - he sounded so familiar, and yet somehow so very changed at the same time. And now, this.

How could she possibly refuse to speak with him now?

She closed her eyes as the image from her dream flew through her mind. She remembered so clearly how drawn she'd been. She felt him, the hold he had on her, the pull he'd had on her soul. In her dream, she could not resist him. And now, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Teles' vision blurred. Her throat tightened and her jaw trembled as she drew the small blanket against her chest, her head bowed. Tears spilled forth, clinging to her lashes before sliding down her cheeks, coming to a point at her chin, and splashing against the collar of her shirt.

She missed him. Damn it all, she missed him.