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Her will is a pure one. A frail but mighty thing that shone as brilliant as a star, even as he drags her hips flush to his and chastens her body to fit him. The Leviathan had no need to wait after all—
This little god had been a gift, a lovely sacrifice, and her tears taste of honeydew and springwater as she takes every inch of him. Hiccups and whimpers and ah, it seems that curious letter of hers had been right. This reserved seat in Fontaine was certainly worth his attention, with her knees bruising against mahogany and claws notched into her skin.
A dance had welcomed him into her world, delicate frame gliding across the stage with silver chains around her wrists and ankles, matching collar around her neck. And a shimmering oceanid heart — his heart, now — dangled along her collarbone as she hopped and spun to the orchestral score playing from the great machine behind her. A charming use of his stolen power.
A power she flaunted before him so flagrantly. But she’s beautiful with it, isn’t she…?
Threads of hydro shimmered overhead, pulling this way and that to command the music, adjust the spotlight. For being a new god, she seemed adept at its use. The waters untethered as they too danced before him, thrumming in playful rhythm to the sway of her. Such a small and delicate thing, coaxing with luminous fins and silken coattails like a mating spectacle, or perhaps the diffident flutterings of a moth to flame.
But when she bowed her head, poised swanlike in her grace, he found it made little difference. Both were ensnared in the end.
“O Great Dragon, the noble Leviathan of the waters… I am the God of Justice, Focalors, the new Hydro Archon of Fontaine!” The words breathing past her lips wavered like seagrass in summer. “As per my letter’s promise… in exchange for your support, I humbly offer myself to you.”
All the while energy spilled from the crystal mirror behind her, a catalyst perhaps, amplifying the strength of his fractured authority. Quite clever to bolster herself this way, to appear to him more capable than she may otherwise be. Though it wasn’t perfect. She glanced back to it, whispering words he couldn’t quite hear. Commands he assumes it needed, but still those ocean-hued eyes shimmered with devotion as they turned back to him. Timid and true as she met his gaze in the audience.
There’s raindrops in her pupils, and they’re bewitching. “And what is your true name, little usurper?”
Snowy hair fell across her face as her bow dipped lower, smaller, the tempting tremble of prey urging him to chase. How easily one hand could curl around her neck, and again her attention flits back to the mirror. Then to him a final time, before it drops to her decorated feet. “It’s… Furina, O Sovereign.”
Furina... Earnest and faithful Furina, with hope etched into the nervous beat of her heart. Humans are obstinate creatures, chained to the arrogation of their maker. Far too foolish to understand their place in this world.
Though this little one tries to, because she never tells him no.
Now the dragon takes her as nature dictates he should. Pins her little wrists while she pleads and shakes, feeble limbs scrabbling against the polished wood. And like delicate fabric she tears, stark red against the cream of her thighs.
“P-please… O Dragon, O Leviathan…!” She whimpers his name in pleasing tones, pitching higher, sweeter than spring rain. Even as she struggles against his hold, shakes her head and cries, pleasure sings loud through her tears.
“Yes, Furina?”
Her pretty lips still move but only sound tumbles out, caught between a mewl and a prayer. So warm and wet as he lifts her, hands wrapping around her waist and pushing deeper, drawing closer, burying himself in the pious pull of her velvety walls over and over again. His very first taste of the human world, and it’s sugar on his tongue.
“I- I can’t…!” Her voice is a squeak, snowy hair spilling seafoam across the stage. But he can feel the diligent tremble of her cunt all the while, can scent in the air between them that she’s close..
”You can.”
His knot swells and she wails, fragile vessel clawing and kicking as fluid gushes from her. Hot and rich and how wasteful she is to release onto nothing— but she’s too precious a creature to punish, too timid a creature to scold. So he nuzzles his nose against her slender neck instead, delicate as the lace she’s wearing, and sinks his fangs inside. And the sound she makes is exquisite. Furina’s walls clench and stroke his cock so well that a purr slips from his throat, rocking up as she squeezes around him with gasps tumbling past petal pink lips.
A pity to reach her limit so easily, even more so that the music begins to fade.
They catch their breath and those invisible threads of water dim and sway as if caught in a breeze, curling around the mirror before they fade all together. Wisping out one final time to wipe a tear from Furina’s cheek—
Have faith, it says, and it’s in her own voice.
Then all is still, and he can feel the energy no longer. Perhaps she’s exhausted herself.
“Furina.”
He licks sweet blood from her skin and admires the marks left behind. She’s such a malleable thing, with no scales to protect her, no way to heal without time. She only hiccups and blinks away tears, delicate fingers coming to press the sigil glowing softly over her belly.
His sigil, and it stands in glory of his claim on her.
”Furina.”
“Y-yes…?”
“Listen well, little usurper… I will not repeat myself again.” He can feel the way she swallows, her mismatched eyes unfocused as he rocks his knot against her cunt. Nestles himself ever deeper inside, and he growls low and content against her skin. “This once, I will allow you the mercy of choice.”
Her fear is sharp and tingles on his tongue, crisp as winter seas as it floods through her veins. He licks more sugar from her neck, languidly rolling his hips just to hear her melody. And she sings it for him again and again with his tail swaying in rhythm, her little gasps and whimpering pleas like lyrics breathed for him alone. The allure of this facsimile of a god, this little droplet calling itself an Archon…
Her crystalline tears puddle as she looks once more to her mirror, and she seems to search it, the tension rising inside her like the symphony her machine had played. In the reflection they’re connected, her disheveled curls tangled and sticking to sweat and blood, and they meet each other’s eye. But the symphony fades as she slacks and gradually limps, and hides her face away against his shoulder.
“Do you wish to go through with this, now that you understand what it means be a dragon’s bride?” He asks, his voice a low rumble against her skin. It matters not what her answer is, but still he relishes in the spike of confusion in her blood, the yes-no swing of its shifting flavor.
He rests his hand atop hers, far larger, and his sigil shimmers through the gaps in their fingers.
“I…”
Furina’s lungs fill with a broken, shuddering breath, and the Leviathan fits his fangs back in. Drinks the heady brilliance of her resolve coursing through him with the aching beat of her heart.
“I will be yours, O merciful Dragon…” It’s said in a whisper, but in the echoing silence her words are unmistakable. “Be my judge, and lead Fontaine with me.”
He laces their fingers together, and she tilts her head for him. Bares her vulnerable throat ever further.
Resplendent in her surrender.
“Very well.”