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Zhou Zishu emerged from the water spluttering. After a whole day and night spent swimming down, down, down into the mere, her limbs and her lungs ached from a level of exhaustion she would not have thought possible. It was a miracle she was still on her feet. Slowly, her spinning vision ground to a halt, and the world around her emerged. Two low tables with two benches each stretched away into the cave, and the walls were too even to be natural, but too rough to be manmade. In short, it was a hall, just like so many others Zhou Zishu had been in before, but here there were no warriors. There were no tapestries, no candles, no treasure to pass between a lord and retainer. There was no meat for a feast. There was only Zhou Zishu, alone.
Then she saw the monster.
Like any good monster, there was layer upon layer of legend surrounding this one. She wondered the moors, hungry and vicious and deadly to any wayward traveller she came across. She thirsted for meat and blood, and only human would do. Most importantly, she may appear in the shape of a woman, but she was anything but.
In that moment, Zhou Zishu could believe all of it. Despite her noisy entrance, the monster appeared to be dozing. She wore nothing but the fine, colourless hair that grew in masses out of the crown of her head. Zhou Zishu watched the slow rise and fall of the monster’s naked chest. She also noticed, with a sense of fear that did not come easily to her these days, the way the monster’s mouth was circled with drying blood, enough for it to drip down her chin and stain her neck and chest.
Zhou Zishu knew exactly where all that blood came from. She knew the good, decent warriors that this monster had torn apart with only her hands, her nails and her teeth. She took a step forward. The monster opened her eyes.
It was ridiculous. Zhou Zishu felt like a child again, freezing in place when the play-pretend monster turns to catch her moving. There was nothing pretend about this monster, but there was almost something childish. If she noticed the sword, Hrunting, in Zhou Zishu’s hand, she didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. It was Zhou Zishu herself that the monster was interested in. She looked at her questioningly, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow. Her soft brown eyes had a strange gentleness to them, so much so that Zhou Zishu felt her own heart stutter in her chest. This was not the first time she had misgivings about a killing, but surely nothing was more clear-cut than this. The beautiful, beguiling woman in front of her was a monster. Zhou Zishu had witnessed her bloodthirstiness with her own eyes, but in the pale light of the mere, she almost seemed to be something different entirely.
Zhou Zishu walked down through that cursed hall, with its empty benches and rotting walls. Her breath still came in gasps from her long descent through the turgid waters of the mere. In her hand, Hrunting hung heavily. All the while, the monster watched her approach with nothing but a kind of innocent curiosity. She said nothing. In truth, Zhou Zishu did not even know if she could speak.
Oh, but she could say so much with those deep, brown eyes, deep as the mere itself, and for a second, Zhou Zishu hesitated. Even bloodied as it was, there was a look of betrayal on the monster’s face. But she could not come back empty handed.
She climbed the steps up to where the monster lounged on her throne. Neither she nor Zhou Zishu dared break eye contact. The monster didn’t move as she tightened her grip on Hrunting. Her only reaction was to close her eyes and tilt her head back and expose the neck as Zhou Zishu raised the sword above her. Then she swung the blade down, hard and fast.
Hrunting was a sword that had never failed. Passed from emperor to emperor, it had taken more lives than even Zhou Zishu had herself. Prince Jin had placed it in her hands at the edge of the mere and promised her victory. That’s why Zhou Zishu only felt shock when the impact rebounded, sending her sprawling backwards. The collision barely made a noise, only a dull thud as metal hit flesh. The only thing Zhou Zishu registered at first was that the satisfaction of a clean kill was lacking. She hit the ground hard, and the sword bounced back down the stairs and disappeared into the dim, unnatural light of the mere.
Next, there was the laughter. It resounded through the dank hall until it seemed to hit Zhou Zishu from every angle. It was a strange laugh, too; completely deranged, but so patently fake that perhaps the insincerity was an intentional affect in itself. Before Zhou Zishu could even ponder what that might mean, the monster had closed the space between them. She felt the motion of the dagger as it passed just where her face had been moments before. In a second, she spun around again, faced this strange creature, and was met with a very different expression on her bloodied face. She shed every shred of innocence about here in mere seconds, and she now looked at Zhou Zishu with wide, frenzied eyes. At her full height, she seemed to tower over Zhou Zishu, who was left gaping in shock and horror at the expanse of her naked, bloodied skin.
Then Zhou Zishu swung again. Her first blow was entirely ineffectual, she knew that. There was just nothing else she could do. The monster danced gracefully around Hrunting’s point, bone-pale hair twirling around her in a flurry as she went. Then it was her turn to strike, and she was quick, and strong, and once again the wicked dagger nearly tore a gash through Zhou Zishu’s armour. A third strike missed again, but she was getting tired, and the monster was relentless. When the fourth came, the monster struck out not with the blade but with the back of one strong and elegant hand, and Zhou Zishu hit the ground again. Needle-point pain flashed through her body, quick as lightning, and she cried out helplessly at the sensation.
The monster seemed to think that one hit would be enough to fell Zhou Zishu for good, because she lowered herself, that quizzical look back on her soft features, and she lowered to a crouch to take a better look. For a moment, Zhou Zishu let her observe. She was injured and the monster was inhumanly strong, so she didn’t want to startle her. If anything, this was more unsettling than the crazed look she had about her before, with her mouth set in a subtle frown and the whites of her eyes showing. That was expected. It was the softness that Zhou Zishu struggled to cope with.
She endured it until the monster was almost above her, crawling in to look down at Zhou Zishu with wide eyes. It was then that she swung her knee up, digging it straight into the spot where she knew the monster’s kidney should be. Apparently, that was more effective than the sword, because the monster threw her head back and shrieked, giving Zhou Zishu the opportunity to knock her from her hands and knees, artfully depositing her on the ground while she rolled to safety.
Her plan went no further than that, though, and in the second she hesitated, the monster was on her feet again and she caught hold of Zhou Zishu’s own long, dark hair. She yanked backwards and Zhou Zishu fell squarely into the monster’s chest. For a moment, the contact was almost an embrace. Then the dagger was at her throat again and Zhou Zishu managed to dig her teeth into an exposed forearm, causing the monster to yowl again. They tussled like that, with tooth and nail and ferocity, until Zhou Zishu’s footwork was just a moment too slow, the monster swiped the dagger and made a deep gash across her back. Zhou Zishu only grunted. She watched a spray of her own blood arc through the air, the acrid pain breaking her focus in a second.
The monster caught her. Her eyes watched the blood fall slowly, as if through murky water. This time, when she hit the ground, it was softly, with two sturdy arms cushioning the fall. In one swift motion, the monster twisted herself to sit astride Zhou Zishu. She was a solid weight on her hips. Zhou Zishu watched as her blood hit the floor, then she hazily turned her gaze upwards to meet those cavernous eyes.
“Hero Zhou,” said the monster.
Zhou Zishu blinked. This was the first time the monster had spoken, and the melodious edge to her voice made her shiver. It was not as if she had thought much about how a monster might sound, if a monster could speak at all, but she never would have imagined anything so sweet.
Then again, she had been warned about a monster shaped like a woman, but in truth not even human.
“Get off me,” grunted Zhou Zishu. The wound on her shoulder was starting to ache, as was her whole body from where the monster pressed into her.
The monster smiled, and Zhou Zishu could see that the gore coated not just her lips and face, but her teeth too. “If I do, will you kill me?”
Another puzzle that Zhou Zishu did not know how to unpick. The answer was, of course, yes, but it did not seem like she could lie or tell the truth in this situation.
“Don’t answer that. I know the answer.” Again, the monster looked almost sad. Zhou Zishu snorted out a laugh.
“Why shouldn’t I? You killed so many of my lord’s men. What did you expect?”
“Terrible answer,” the monster informed her. “So boring. I thought better of you, Hero Zhou.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
The monster laughed at her again. “Hero Zhou, you have killed so many. As many as I have, perhaps even more. Can you honestly say that every slaying was righteous? Worse – that you took no pleasure in any of them?”
Zhou Zishu had heard many descriptions of this monster. None of them had mentioned ‘talkative’ as a defining feature. This was a particular kind of hell. “What are you doing, monster? Are you trying to convince me not to kill you? Because in this position, you could just kill me first.”
The monster blinked in alarm. “Are you so keen to die, Hero Zhou?”
“Are you so keen to keep me alive?’
She paused. “Wen Kexing,” she said at last.
“What?”
“Wen Kexing is my name.”
Zhou Zishu did not care. “You are a menace, Monster Wen. Finish this. Please.”
Evidently, the monster was thinking about it. She frowned, looking down at Zhou Zishu with those wide, gentle eyes, narrowed in a look of strange, innocent melancholy. At her side, her hand shifted on her knife. Then she raised it, and Zhou Zishu though the moment had finally come. She watched the dagger move through the air painfully slowly, waiting at any moment for Monster Wen to make the decisive move and slice the blade down across Zhou Zishu’s throat.
The moment didn’t come. Zhou Zishu stared at that knife for seconds, minutes, time stretched out as she waited for that fiery hot pain to cut through her as she lay on the cold, damp floor of the mere-hall. She glanced back to Monster Wen, who just gazed back pleadingly, and then looked back to the knife. Monster Wen was not about to strike. She was pointing to something.
The realisation made her sluggish. She was in no hurry to see what it was Monster Wen wanted her to see. She took in that strange look on the monster’s disarmingly innocent, bloody face, and then she looked to where she was pointing.
On the wall hung a sword. It was not unusual for a sword to hang on the wall of mead hall. A lord was entitled to show off his trophies. Here, though, in Monster Wen’s hall, it stood out as an oddity. It was an old thing, a little jagged around the edges, but still a solid weapon that looked like it would hurt.
“What about it?” grunted Zhou Zishu.
“It was forged by giants,” explained Monster Wen, “and it is the only thing that can kill me.”
Perhaps she should have guessed that. This was the kind of riddling that was typical of monsters, and as a hero, Zhou Zishu should have known. It could have been a trick, of course – out of every giant and demon, every water-monster and mark-stepper, none had done her job for her and solved the riddle on her behalf. At the same time, Zhou Zishu doubted it was a lie. There was something about this Wen Kexing that was earnest. She believed that every time she flitted to a new version of herself before Zhou Zishu’s eyes, each was as genuine as the last. She believed Wen Kexing wanted Zhou Zishu to see her, but did not entirely know how to be seen. She also knew that Monster Wen simply wanted to find out what a hero would do in such a situation.
Zhou Zishu shirked the monster off of her, and Wen Kexing let her do it. She stood, and her legs felt weak. But she crossed the room and toward that old, giant-wrought sword. It was displayed high up on the wall, almost too high for Zhou Zishu to reach, and even beyond what Wen Kexing could comfortably get at. On the tips of her toes, Zhou Zishu managed to dislodge the blade with one hand and then catch the hilt in the other.
Meanwhile, Wen Kexing sat on the floor, watching. It was possible that Zhou Zishu would kill her. She knew this. The prospect didn’t frighten her, but it also did not seem all that likely. She saw the way Hero Zhou looked at her. There was horror, of course. As innocent as she might play, she could still taste the fresh meat of Hero Zhou’s fellow hall-dwellers on her lips and in her teeth. Even then, she did not feel ashamed. News did not readily reach her down in her water-bound little hall, but she knew of Zhou Zishu. She knew the hero had killed before.
Hero Zhou was approaching, the new sword in hand. Wen Kexing watched intensely. The hero held it as a hero should, low but correctly, a warning rather than a threat, but she was ready if she needed to be. It would be very easy for her to kill the monster in one swing. But she didn’t.
The fact of the matter was that Wen Kexing could smell the reluctance on her from a mile away. It was leverage, perhaps enough to preserve Wen Kexing’s life. But that wasn’t why she so eagerly placed her life in Hero Zhou’s hands.
She waited as Hero Zhou contemplated her options. Eventually, she knelt. The sword was still pointed at Wen Kexing, but she made no move. Perhaps, the monster thought, she just needed some help. She reached up to where Hero Zhou’s hand rested on the grip, then wrapped her own lengthy fingers around the pummel. Then she slowly moved her hand down the hilt, feeling the rough leather rub against the delicate skin of her palm, until her hand was resting on Hero Zhou’s own.
It was a lewd gesture, she knew that. Perhaps a less suggestable hero would have assumed she was some suicidal monstrosity trying to bring about her own end on a hero’s sword, but that is not what Hero Zhou saw. She watched as Wen Kexing manhandled the hilt, and her eyes went wide. She got the hint. Before doing anything, she looked down at the monster, incredulous. Wen Kexing smiled. It was not a bitter smile, like before, but full of genuine warmth. She meant it to be welcoming.
Zhou Zishu moved slowly and gently, which is not what Wen Kexing would have expected from such an encounter. She was already naked, and she felt a flash of self-consciousness, as ridiculous as that was. Whatever Hero Zhou might expect from her human lovers, it was unreasonable to expect the same from a monster. Instead, she let herself lie back and opened her legs to Hero Zhou’s tenderness.
The hero began with her fingers, and they were the fingers of a true martial artist. Her touches were strong and firm, but delicate where needed, and well-practiced. She was experimenting with Wen Kexing’s cunt before moving further. Wen Kexing looked up at her, pleading for something with her eyes. Hero Zhou just sighed.
“Yes, Monster Wen, your hole is as wet as the mere you live in. Are you happy?”
The monster responded only by closing her eyes. Moments later, she felt the cold metal of the sword’s pummel pressing at her entrance. She gasped, and as if on instinct, Hero Zhou’s hand shot out to press comfortingly on her side. Then she began to push the rest of the hilt inside. It was rough, and girthy, and cold from the frigid air of the mere. In response, her muscles seized and her eyes sprung open. The sensation bordered on painful, and Hero Zhou looked at her with genuine concern. She paused for a moment, and Wen Kexing responded by grabbing her wrist and trying to drag it onwards.
“Keep going,” she hissed.
Zhou Zishu did not need to be told twice. She kept one hand on Wen Kexing’s hip in support, while slowly pushing the hilt of the sword inside her. It was a lot to take in, and Wen Kexing writhed and wailed, but would not let Hero Zhou relent.
“Monster Wen,” murmured Hero Zhou, “you did so well.”
She was sobbing. She could feel the hot tears running down her face onto the cold stone floor. She could also feel the icy metal of the sword’s guard pressing against the tender skin of her labia.
“Fuck me,” she growled, “fuck me, Hero Zhou. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
Hero Zishu looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, but then she nodded. Oh so slowly, she started to withdraw the sword again, and Wen Kexing almost fell to pieces just from that. Then she was pressing back in, and it was all but overwhelming. Wen Kexing was certainly no virgin, but she had never taken anything quite so hefty before, and it would hurt like hell if the pleasure did not override anything else. Making it all the better was that steady eye contact with Hero Zhou. Zhou Zishu watched her, at first to check that she was alright, but then concern turned to a haze of lust and she watched herself fuck Wen Kexing with hooded eyes and parted lips. After the first few strokes, Wen Kexing’s body had adjusted to the intrusion and could take Hero Zhou’s frenzied pace. As before, it bordered on too much, too painful, too overwhelming, but the sensations were divine. She could hear herself, the way she was pleading Hero Zhou for what she was already willingly giving. Her breath was ragged, and so was Zhou Zishu’s, and she could already feel her stomach muscles tightening.
She came with a shriek, a wretched noise that echoed all throughout the cavernous hall. The sound lingered as Wen Kexing’s body spasmed helplessly around the sword. She could no longer support herself on her elbows, and she collapsed into the floor, but Zhou Zishu caught her before she could land. It was nice, to be held that way. She let her eyes close.
“Monster Wen,” called Zhou Zishu.
“Mn?”
“Wen Kexing,” she said more urgently, and Wen Kexing reluctantly opened her eyes again. Above her, Zhou Zishu looked so panicked, and for second she wondered if the hero was regretting her actions. She wouldn’t exactly blame her if she did. But no – Hero Zhou’s attention was aimed at the sword. She was watching in horror as the ancient thing melted away in her hand. The metal oozed like hot gore, dripping onto the floor and forming a pool between Wen Kexing’s legs. Hero Zhou looked at her again, silently demanding an explanation.
Wen Kexing just shrugged. “I guess there’s no going back now.”
“Did you know that was going to happen?”
Did she? In all honestly, she wasn’t sure of the answer. Legendary swords were fickle things, and she’d certainly heard of swords that just melted away once their intended foe was slain. However, Wen Kexing also hadn’t heard of any heroes and monsters coming to this kind of arrangement.
Hero Zhou sighed before Wen Kexing could give her an answer. “Are you happy now, at least?”
The monster couldn’t help but smile at that. “Does it matter to you, Hero Zhou?”
“I don’t care,” she spat, “I’m just hoping you might stop talking at some point.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I do like to talk, and I don’t think you hate it as much as you say. And to answer your question – no. I’m not happy.”
“You-” Hero Zhou reacted first out of frustration, and then there was just a hint of fear in her countenance. It was too easy to forget exactly what kind of monster Wen Kexing was. “What else do you want from me?”
“Hmm…” She ran her fingers along Hero Zhou’s thighs, feeling the lean but powerful muscle beneath the smooth leather of her breeches. “I want to taste you, Hero Zhou.”
Zhou Zishu audibly gasped. The way her long fingers played over her crotch made her meaning quite clear, but the blood on her face was a reminder that it was not the only meaning she could have. The ambiguity was intentional, and both knew it.
After a moment’s hesitation, Hero Zhou said, “I don’t think I want to put any part of me anywhere near your mouth.”
“No? No even a little bit?’
“What I want…” She paused, considered her words. “I’m not stupid.”
Wen Kexing was busy running her hands all over Zhou Zishu’s body, and was not particularly paying attention. Her mind remained hazy in the aftermath of her climax, and she could think of little else. “No, of course not. But maybe you could be a little stupid? Just for me?”
It was clear that Hero Zhou was considering it. She put the sword hilt that she was still holding carefully to the side. Then, she gently lay Wen Kexing back on the floor. “I’ll allow it. But only if I can sit atop you. And if you try anything, I will beat you to death with that sword hilt. Pretty sure that still counts within your sword curse, doesn’t it?”
Wen Kexing grinned, ignoring the statement about the sword hilt. “Come here, A-Shu. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“You’re the one who asked for this,” grumbled Hero Zhou, but she did proceed to remove her breeches, and then lower herself down onto Wen Kexing’s face. She did not even pause to wipe the blood from the monster’s lips first.
At first, Wen Kexing felt suffocated, and she shifted about a little beneath Hero Zhou before finding a position where she could still breathe. And, gods, Zhou Zishu tasted so good. She was already so wet, as Wen Kexing assumed she would be having seen the look on her face while she was fucking her with the sword. Despite her proclaimed reluctance, she rode Wen Kexing’s face with enthusiasm, driving her hips down as the monster tried to find a suitable rhythm. She reached up and took hold of Zhou Zishu’s hips, attempting to at least dampen her movements so she could finally find purchase with her tongue and take the hero’s clit in her mouth. With a rough twitch of her jaw, she sucked hard and Zhou Zishu’s whole body shook, but she let out nothing more than a grunt.
Ever a stoic, was her Zhou Zishu.
Wen Kexing worked diligently, feeling out all of Zhou Zishu’s tender spots, which was made harder by her determination to supress any expression of pleasure. At one point, Wen Kexing ran her teeth across one of her most sensitive spots. At first, Zhou Zishu just moaned, threw her head back and grinded down onto Wen Kexing’s mouth. Then, seemingly, she remembered herself, and shot down a warning glare at Wen Kexing. She could only gasp out a laugh, because Zhou Zishu was still ruthlessly riding her face, but she made a note to remember that trick for later.
It took a little longer for Zhou Zishu to come, but Wen Kexing did not mind the work, and watching her take her pleasure made it worth the while. When it happened, Wen Kexing looked up at the other girl in awe as her whole body went stiff, her eyes wide and gazing down at Wen Kexing, and then she was coming all over Wen Kexing’s face, all the while making a strange, keening moan as she rolled her hips through her orgasm.
After a few moments, her body slumped and she fell down beside Wen Kexing. Sleepily, she whispered into Wen Kexing’s ear, “Are you happy now?”
Wen Kexing wiped her mouth, rubbing both blood and come from her face, then she rolled over and pressed a kiss into the top of Zhou Zishu’s head. “Very happy.”
“Good,” she panted, “because I can’t stay here forever.”
The monster’s heart convulsed in her chest. “No. I know.”
“I don’t even know what I will say when I get back.”
“Here,” said Wen Kexing, and she handed her the hilt of the melted sword. “Take this. Tell your Prince Jin about the sword curse. He will believe you.”
Zhou Zishu weighed the sword in her hand for a moment. “And what about when you next decide to make a meal of some of his men? Some of my brothers in arms?”
It was an issue, Wen Kexing knew that. She was half hoping that Hero Zhou would assume she wouldn’t dare attack Prince Jin’s hall again after what happened between them, but she was just too clever for that kind of deception.
“You know what, I don’t want to know.” She looked at the hilt again, smiled, then she pulled her breeches back on and tucked it into her belt.
“Wait!” called Wen Kexing, as Hero Zhou went to leave. “At least let me bandage your wounded arm before you go.”
The hero laughed, and it sounded cruel, but the smile on her face was as warm as ever. “I will see you next time, Monster Wen.”
Then she plunged back into the water of the mere, and began to make her way back up to the sunlight above.