The name Siren followed Freya Helvar around like a curse from the moment her powers first manifested in a raid on her village. With the image of her father's charred corpse and her brother's disgusted face on her mind, she is hauled to the Little Pa...
But it's over, then you're driving me home And it kinda comes out as I get up to go You kiss me in your car and it feels like the start of a movie I've seen before
– ceilings, Lizzy McAlpine
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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
THE SIREN, THE SOUND-BENDER, those were the names that followed Freya Helvar around from the moment she had wielded the waves of sound itself to her will. The monicker was enough to catch Nikolai Lantsov's attention from the moment he had heard it when he was only eight years old and the news of an entirely new Grisha power had spread through the Grand Palace. He had always been interested in special things, and the girl that had been brought to the Little Palace was exactly that.
He had never seen her, for she was kept under careful supervision for the first few years. Whispers spread throughout Os Alta – mostly from the Grisha that came to perform for Nikolai's parents and the entertainment of the court. A girl with hair as pale as snow and eyes the colour of the northern sea. Of a Grisha that manipulated the waves of the air around her to create all sorts of sounds – whether it be alluring or damning.
It was safe to say Nikolai's curiosity had only grown, and when he turned fifteen and the annual winter fete had come around, his long-time wish was fulfilled. For it was the first time the Siren had made an appearance in court. The only thing Nikolai could think when he first laid eyes upon her was that she was beautiful and serene and there was not a flaw in her. Even the burn scar that peeked out from the collar of her kefta – blue with violet embroidery, a combination he had never seen – was perfect.
Her smile drew him to her, her voice was the most captivating thing he had ever heard, and he had to wonder if that was the aftermath of her own Grisha power. When she was taken up onto a podium for her performance, Nikolai could not turn his gaze away. At first when the sound in the room bent to her will, it was an uncomfortable, high-pitched sound that threatened to tear into his eardrums painfully. But then it slowly drifted into the most melodic song he had ever heard, and suddenly Nikolai understood why the name Siren had been chosen for her.
He ignored Vasily's awed and angered muttering – somehow using both tones at the same time, his brother was a strange one – and only stared at her as if she was the only thing in the room. That was when their eyes met, hazel meeting pale blue. Something occurred in that moment, for when Freya Helvar's performance ended, Nikolai felt the need to speak to her no matter what. And speak to her he did, pushing through the crowd of nobles and diplomats and other Grisha until he stood face to face with her and her perfect smile.
And only the Saints knew what would entail after that day.
