The Spider King emerged from the Harpy Queen's cave into the cool embrace of mountain air. His robe, adorned with the spidery patterns of his kingdom, fluttered like living shadows in the breeze, tendrils of black and gold against the vibrant sky. It was sunset—the hour of transformation when the world seemed to burn with fading light, the mountainside bathed in a sea of red and gold hues. Below, the rugged terrain sprawled out, jagged rocks softened by the delicate glow of twilight, while above, the heavens bled into darkness, streaks of pink and crimson clinging to the horizon.
Yet for all the beauty the world offered him at that moment, it was not the sunset, nor the mountain air, that captivated him. No, the most striking vision before him was his Centauri Champion, standing tall and proud among the crags.
She was a figure of deadly elegance, the polished black of her armour gleaming under the dying light, each plate reflecting a flash of sunset fire. Her body moved with the controlled grace of a noble mare, each subtle shift of her muscles sending her lethal weapons swaying in harmony with the rhythm of her breath. Her battle dress fit snugly, outlining her every curve, but it was her hair that truly mesmerized him this time. Braided and flowing, it danced in the mountain wind, strands occasionally catching the light, turning them into ribbons of molten gold.
The Spider King’s chest tightened, his hands briefly clutching the necklace at his neck, as if to ground himself in the moment, as if to protect himself against her Charm. Alas, there was no magic involved, the necklace was powerless infront of her natural charms. The feelings he felt were true.
The Centauri Champion hadn’t noticed him yet, distracted as she was, she was neighing softly to another figure beside her.
His sharp eyes narrowed, inspecting the figure. A spider. Young, barely more than a hatchling, its chitinous body still bearing the obsidian sheen of youth. This was no soldier or assassin, no warrior to match the Centauri’s might. Instead, it was a merchant—a travelling spider peddler. The same spider, no doubt, that had delivered the endless crates of goods to the Harpy Village, laden with dangerous wonders and secret delights. Yes, the fellow was still little but it seems it wasn’t discouraged from climbing great heights and achieving great things. Truly, the spiders were impressive people.
The Spider King’s eyes drifted upwards, and he saw the Centauri Champion’s hand—the one not propping her lethal weapons—grasping something small and delicate. A vial, barely the length of a finger, filled with a liquid that shimmered faintly in the dying light. His breath caught as he recognized it: a potion, its contents undoubtedly questionable. She clutched it with intent, her fingers brushing over its crystalline glass surface before she deftly slipped it between the fabric of her battle dress, nestling it deep within the crevice of her chest—hidden, yet so tantalizingly close.
The Spider King felt a rush of something—amusement, intrigue, perhaps even a flicker of jealousy at the way she handled the potion, as if it were some secret to be kept from him. His lips curved into a smirk. He knew of the effects of the potion all too well. But was it intended for him or for her? – that question still lingered.
She straightened, her battle dress rattling softly with the movement, and at last, their gazes met.
The Centauri Champion’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments before a flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks a delicate pink that stood in stark contrast to her hardened, lethal appearance. The blush was subtle, but he noticed. Oh, he always noticed.
Her reaction was clear, though unspoken. She fancied him. Just as he fancied her.
She flicked her braid back with a casual toss of her head, the strands of hair catching the breeze again, whipping like the tail of a great beast ready to strike. The motion sent her weapons swaying in tandem, a lethal, hypnotic motion that matched the intensity of her gaze.
"Spider King," she addressed him, her voice low, tinged with respect but layered with something deeper, something unspoken yet simmering between them.
The young spider merchant, oblivious to the undercurrents of their exchange, gave a quick spidery greeting—its tiny legs scurrying through the rock in a clumsy, awkward dance. It seemed eager to depart now that its transaction was complete, perhaps sensing it was no longer needed. With a hurried bow, it scurried off into the shadows, disappearing among the rocks to continue its business, likely to peddle more unstable, questionable potions or some equally dangerous concoction.
Now, only the Spider King and the Centauri Champion remained, the quietude of the mountain broken only by the occasional whistle of the wind through the rocks and a random hey of harpies.
The Champion stood tall once more, her brow furrowed slightly, though the faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. Her hand moved, fixing the position of her lethal weapons, propping them up in a display of power and might—an unconscious gesture of habit, or perhaps something more. Her eyes were unreadable, though the tension between them was palpable.
"So," she asked, her voice stronger now, but still rich with the underlying current of something unsaid, something personal. "How did the discussion with the Harpy Queen go?"
Her question was casual, but there was something in the way she asked it—her intense gaze never leaving his, her hand still resting near where the potion had been stored, nestled safely between the cushions, close to her heart. The slight tremble in her breath was infused with anticipation. And her lips, though pressed into a neutral line, seemed on the verge of curling into a frown, as if she dreaded the answer but still wanted to hear it from him.
The Spider King considered his words carefully. He could see the flicker of uncertainty behind her steady façade, the way she shifted her weight ever so slightly, the way she moved her tail from side to side in poorly hidden anxiety. She wanted to hear more than just the results of his negotiation with the Harpy Queen. No, what she truly wanted was something unspoken, the details of something that she thought he might have done.
The wind picked up again, causing his robe to billow out behind him, tendrils of spidery thread mingling with the last rays of sunlight. He took a step toward her, his boots crunching softly on the gravel beneath them, his sharp eyes never leaving hers.
"The Harpy Queen," he began slowly, his voice as smooth and commanding as the shadows he commanded, "was most... generous."
The Centauri Champion’s breath hitched ever so slightly, the blush deepening as her gaze flicked down to his lips, then quickly back up. She adjusted her stance, her armour rattling softly, as if bracing herself for what he might say next.
“But worry not, haha, I refused her offer to make a special egg.” He finished with a teasing smile.
Her posture relaxed. “Why would I be worried? It’s not like I would get jealous or anything like that.” She walked up closer to him, leaning in for a whisper. “After all, I’m your royal mount, the only one you shall ride deep into the night. Now, hop on,” with a purr of a whisper she tapped behind her back.
“Don’t mind if I do!” he mounted her in one swift motion, almost practised to perfection.
Stolen story; please report.
The Centauri Champion walked slowly towards the Galleon Whale, her hand resting close to the treasure tucked away at her special holding place. The Spider King hugged her tighter, wrapping his arms around her chest.
Still curious he decided to ask. “I’ve seen what you’ve purchased. Do you think it will work?”
Her step hitched, but only for a fraction of a second. “It will. I have no doubt,” she spoke with resolve. “I will make the Ultimate Cream Cheese. I mean… together we will.”
“Yes, together.”
The warm moment hung in the air between them, heavy with the unspoken tension of desires soon to be fulfilled. The Spider King’s smirk deepened, the cool mountain air around them crackling with the electric charge of things that were soon to happen.
And with that, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving them walking towards the shadow-veiled entrance of the flying ship. The short ride to the ship was over, but the true ride was yet to begin.
…
The Galleon Whale soared through the night sky, cutting through the darkened clouds with silent grace, its white hull glowing in the cold light of the luminescent moon. Inside the ship’s command deck, a nest of spidery activity chittered. The webs glistened along the walls, catching the light of the DarkFlame lanterns that illuminated the room in a soft, eerie glow. Six-legged, four-eyed, figures skittered across the room, pulling levers, twisting knobs, and manipulating complex webs of controls with nimble precision. Their smooth motions reflected the natural dance of a well-woven web, each movement practised to spidery perfection.
At the centre of the command deck, perched atop the throne of threads and metal, sat the Spider Navigator. Unlike the other crew members, this spider didn’t move with the frenetic energy of her(?) comrades. Her stillness, however, was deceptive, masking the intricate web of thoughts spinning inside her mind.
Her spidery uniform—a neat, blue garment adorned with gold embroidery and web-like patterns—hung perfectly on her delicate frame, though she couldn’t resist toying with the collar, her spindly fingers tracing the edges as if seeking to make herself more comfortable in her own chitin. Her mandibles twitched with a mixture of spidery anxiety and focus, her yellow eyes glinting with unreadable thought. She was a spider, after all. While the spiders had no gender, her mind was a tad bit unique. Different. Chaotic. It was feminine. And today, rather troubled.
She fiddled with the brim of her sailor's hat, adjusting it atop her head, her nervous habit betraying the tension she refused to acknowledge.
“Spiders don’t show weakness. Spiders don’t doubt.” she chirped softly to herself, her melodic little voice barely above a whisper, as she tugged on the edges of her uniform once more. The words, meant only to her, were absorbed into the clicking and the magic humm of the command deck, but also swept aside by the larger chaos brewing inside her mind.
To her right, in the corner of the command deck, a crystalline tank shimmered, its walls reflecting the dancing lantern flame like a submerged treasure. Inside, the Mer Princess floated in restless discontent. Her sapphire scales glistened like jewels beneath the swirling water, each one catching the low light and throwing it back in a cascade of shimmering blues. Her long hair, blue and wet, fanned out around her, giving her the appearance of some forgotten sea goddess, beautiful and mesmerising all at once.
But that beauty was marred by the expression on her face—one of frustration, her brow furrowed and lips curled into a slight pout. The water in her tank swirled with her mood, reacting to her agitation, the currents curling like angry eels around her slender fingers.
"I thought this trip would be exciting," the Mer Princess complained, her voice muffled by the glass of the tank but still clear enough to carry her discontent to the Spider Navigator. "Back at the castle, all I did was laundry, dishes, and other mundane tasks. I’ve had no chance to dive deeper… develop my bond with the Spider King. And here I thought this trip would be my chance. An escape where I could tread the deeper waters…"
The Spider Navigator turned her head slightly, offering a nod of acknowledgement. “I understand,” she chirped in support, her voice as small and melodic as the web she spun in her mind, though her attention was not entirely on the Mer Princess’s grievances. Her claws tapped absently against the metal armrests of her spidery throne, twitching in their own private rhythm. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of her own concerns.
The Mer Princess, oblivious to the Navigator’s internal distraction, continued venting. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her tail flicked against the inside of the tank, sending another ripple through the water. “I was sure that I’d at least share a cabin with the Spider King. After all, I’m his personal maid, aren't I? But no, I was kicked out! How am I supposed to perform my duties if he won’t even let me into his cabin?”
The Spider Navigator chirped another line of support, her mandibles twitching slightly as if to express empathy. But her four eyes weren’t on the Mer Princess at all. They were fixed on a distant point in the room, on the flickering flame of the DarkFlame lantern, her mind drifting toward a different set of problems. Her spidery claws tugged again at the cloth, smoothing the hem of her uniform in a compulsive gesture.
The King’s orders had been… different. The destination of the Galleon Whale wasn’t its usual stop at the Spidery Outpost. No, this time they were headed toward the Centauri Castle. And that, for a spider of routine, had spun a sticky web of doubt in her mind. But was this really that troubled her so much?
No… There was something deeper, something far more disturbing weaving its way through the recesses of her mind. Something she dared not speak aloud. She knew what it was.
What if… spiders had a gender?
Her claws stilled for a moment, her mind caught in the trap of the stray thought. It was a question that had lingered in the background of her thoughts for so long now, but she had always pushed it away, too afraid to face it. One notable exception aside, spiders had no gender, everyone knew that. They were beyond such trivial distinctions. But her mind… her mind was different. She felt it, deep within the web of her consciousness. Her mind was feminine. She was sure of it, in the same way she was sure of her skills as the ship’s navigator.
And yet, if spiders did have a gender… what would the Spider King prefer?
The question spun through her thoughts, tangling itself in every corner of her mind. The Spider King was a mystery, his preferences and desires unorthodox, wrapped in layers of shadowy webs and chaotic threads. She had served him faithfully, spun his commands into action with precision, but this? This was different.
She clicked her mandibles softly, an anxious sound barely audible above the hum of the deck. Would he prefer a feminine mind? Would that even matter to him? Or was she only projecting her own insecurities, her own desires, onto him?
Her mind fluttered, caught between the spidery web of duty and the confusing tangle of identity. What was she? A Navigator, yes, but beyond that? She adjusted her hat again, the motion automatic, as if the act of straightening her uniform might somehow straighten the chaotic mess inside her.
Meanwhile, the Mer Princess’s frustrations boiled over, her tail thrashing against the glass as her sapphire eyes darkened with bitterness. “…And then he locks himself in the cabin with that Centauri Champion!” she huffed, folding her arms even tighter across her chest. The water bubbled with her irritation. “Allegedly, they are discussing some ultimate dessert. But if that’s the case, why wasn’t I invited? I helped bake The Dream Come True! I assisted with The Proof of Affection—which, mind you, jiggled perfectly! But no. I’m just… excluded.”
The Spider Navigator gave another nod, another chirp of acknowledgement, but her attention was barely there. The more the Mer Princess spoke, the more her voice seemed to bubble out into the background, a distant hum beneath the chaos in the Spider Navigator’s mind. She couldn’t focus—not on the Mer Princess’s complaints, not on the task at hand, not on anything except the gnawing, crawling anxiety within her.
Doubt wasn’t supposed to cling to her like this. Spiders didn’t doubt. They acted. Decisively. Swiftly. But now… now she found herself Trapped, caught in a web of her own making.
She needed to know. She needed to ask the Spider King directly. About the course, yes, to dispel her professional doubts. But… deeper than that, hidden within the thick strands of her consciousness, she needed to know something far more personal. Something about herself.
The Mer Princess’s voice faded into the background, her pout still prominent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she swirled in her tank. The water bubbled with her lingering annoyance, but the Spider Navigator barely noticed. Her focus had shifted entirely to the task ahead. She tapped a spidery finger on the control panel, setting the ship to a casual autocruise. It would have to do for now.
Without so much as a glance toward the Mer Princess, still venting in her corner, the Spider Navigator scurried from the command deck. Her many legs tapped lightly against the ironoak floor as she made her way down the corridor, her mind spinning with thoughts of duty, identity, and the… the Spider King.
Behind her, the self-absorbed Mer Princess continued to pout and vent, completely unaware that her audience had left.