Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron: Legendary Defender.
they send me away to find them a fortune, a chest filled with diamonds and gold
the house was awake with shadows and monsters
The first time he sees it out there, it's just a bolt through the churning waters - ghosting through the low fog and stealing light from the waxing moon. It's easy to convince himself he's dreaming, that it's just so late on lookout and the old legends of Calypso told over dinner get to his head, so he does. It's his first voyage across the great seas and whatever he sees moves too fast for him to be sure of what it is - most likely a group of fish migrating to the warmer waters or even the crew fooling him to call out and fall into some grand trick or another.
A splash and a terrified shout from the bow jerks him out of his reverie. "Siren!"
A gust of wind howls through the shrouds and more voices rise up. He leaves his station at the stern and sees the silhouette of someone shooting blindly into the water. Her existence is cursed and seethed and spat on as half of the crew stomps back up to the deck from the cabins. They lean over the sides to catch a glimpse of the nightmarish creature and clumsily gather towards the center. He realizes that he should be shaken and alert whenever she appears.
But he's never been one for superstition.
Two nights later, a song finally rings out over the waves and dulls the whoosh of wind in their ears and stills their ship completely like they're being hovered just over the water. Suspended by her warm, swinging alto and stopping time altogether, lighting the stars like diamonds against the dark, deep sky. And as the song shifts, pitching into a dangerous soprano that has even the most hardened of their crew shivering at their posts, Shiro relents and accepts - superstition may not be completely as impractical as he once believed.
There's talk of turning back or changing their direction altogether. The captain sits at the head of their long table, surrounding himself with yellowing maps in three languages and heavy tomes with crudely drawn figures of menacing beasts that were believed to be at the siren's whim and call. As the candles dim, their shadows grow taller - inching up and up and up to the ceiling in menacing shapes and an ominous air chokes the room as they talk of the songs.
He doesn't mention that the song isn't haunting to him.
That it doesn't call him to climb over the side and ludicrously dive to his end in a fervent search of lithe arms and curving hips under the rough skin of his palms. No, it stills him, rooting him firmly in place and bleeding a calm through his veins as his mind sinks back to the familiar roads of home and the sun shining down on him. So he believes - knows - her kind are out there, breaking the haunting silence of night, but doesn't fear.
A hand full of his shipmates notice his lack of fright and torn nerves and his heartbeat labors as they look over him. The second mate scowls, "One less person to tie to the canons when they return at night, back to work."
For that, he catches lookout duty more and more as the songs become more frequent and grow louder and more intricate. There's a woven harmony just at the reaches of the horizon that leeches like a plague on their journey, crew members' hands dot with the crescent moons of their fingernails as they war with their senses. The songs start as the last ray of sun is swallowed by a wave and won't end until at dawn - as the lingering days of summer trickle into the colder months, the nights stretch longer; chasing most of the crew below decks to the stifling press of their bunks.
Shiro plays his part, swallowing thickly and pressing his mouth into a thin line when he's assigned to lookout. Nods resolutely as his captain claps his shoulder mournfully and reminds him of their mission. Says that he hopes Shiro will be there to greet the shores of home with them, his encouraging speech falters and silently drops off as the older man pales when he meet Shiro's eye.
As if he speaks to a man already dead.
Maybe he is. Perhaps death has chosen its next mark, but it won't be because he's fighting to feel the soft skin of a faceless creature at the bottom of the ocean.
That night she breaks the surface of the water and watches him closely.
She isn't scowling or smiling and a part of him feels relief that mouth doesn't yawn open to sing, flashing serrated teeth in the low light of the moon. He comes to his decision as he breaks their gaze to slowly bow his head.
When he raises his eyes back to hers, he takes her silence in and accepts it as a sign that - for now - he is in the clear and has her attention. "The first night I saw you, I was afraid you were a survivor of a shipwreck. I nearly tossed a rope out to you and called for help. Then, I thought it was perhaps the crew getting a laugh on their new shipmate." He huffs bemusedly to himself when she watches him unblinkingly, her eyes only leaving his to trail down to his waist where his captain's revolver and his own sword sat at his hip. "You don't know what I'm saying do you?" Shiro ducks and bashfully scrubs his hand over the back of his head. "Of course sirens wouldn't speak English and I'm venturing to guess you wouldn't bother to learn for us mangy things."
Her brows lower, an emotion he can't name flaring in her eyes. "We know all languages." The water laps away from her shoulder as she raises higher and he startles, looking away as the tips of his ears grow warm. This time, she laughs. "You worry I'm not decent."
Something restless turns over inside him at her words, they aren't an order, not a command that takes him wholly - body, mind, and soul - but a challenge. He wonders at the accent of her voice and the way it dips teasingly over her voice and it's familiar as if they were once introduced and long acquaintances growing comfortable with each other. A dull hook tugs at his ribcage.
Shiro thinks perhaps maybe he should have heeded the warning of his captain because he looks back to her with peaked curiosity. A silver chest plate starts at the base of her neck, covering her shoulders and collarbones, and drops low to cover her torso. Small patches of skin show through the sporadically scaled v of her hips before the dark blue scales of her tail begin. The armor is tarnished in places with tiny dents in others, but still shines brightly in the moonlight. Bare and strong arms hang at her sides and a word rings crisp in his ears.
Warrior.
He bites his tongue against a thousand and one questions and tips his head back in the direction of the bow. "You've got the crew in quite a fever."
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "We are not interested in a cargo ship, we call for a greater enemy."
The siren breathes heavily and fear catches in his throat - there's not much that can shake him up, but the bite to her words has his spine straightening with dread. "You're hunting."
"In not so many words, I suppose that's correct." She juts her chin up, her eyes narrowing on him and he knows immediately he's being measured. "You here our song, but you are not scared."
It isn't phrased like a question, but he steps up and curtly nods. He can only guess that she's satisfied with his answer when her hand raises from the water, reaching towards him. He wavers - it could be that he's no different and this is how he's to discover it.
"I am Allura, princess of the Alteans." The webbing between her fingers falls back like drops of water rolling back over her wrist to reveal long, dark fingers and he takes it.
"Shiro, lowly crew member of the unimpressive cargo ship."
Her eyes flash and distinctive markings that follow the curve of her eyes glow as the corner of her mouth ticks up. His hand wraps around hers and her fingers tenses around his. "Then be warned, you and the rest of your crew, you must leave, Shiro. The Galra are in these waters, they are what we hunt."
His hand shakes in hers and he feels like he's been knocked over into the cold waters, his breath stolen and senses blank. "They're here?!"
"Yes." Her hand snakes up to his wrist and pins him in place with her hard stare.
"Are we headed into their territory? Are they sailing in a fle-"
"Shiro?!"
He curses under his breath, just barely catches the own she hisses, and drops her hand. Shiro jerks back several steps and spins around on his heel. Footsteps fall closer and closer to him. He whispers back over his shoulder,"You'd better go, and th-"
His words die on his tongue as he catches the inky shade of her fins quietly flick over the surface and disappear.
prompt: siren and asexual pirate who doesn't understand why all his crew are losing their shit that person has a nice voice sure but what the fuck is happening.
A/N: originally posted to my tumblr, my username is alluran, there you will find the prompt source linked.