Warnings: A bit of violence and a bit of sexual content.
Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima.
Venus maris
The sea is lonely, the sea is dreary,
The sea is restless and uneasy;
Thou seekest quiet, thou art weary,
Wandering thou knowest not whither;—
Our little isle is green and breezy,
Come and rest thee! Oh come hither,
Come to this peaceful home of ours,
Where evermore
The low west-wind creeps panting up the shore
To be at rest among the flowers;
Full of rest, the green moss lifts,
As the dark waves of the sea
Draw in and out of rocky rifts,
Calling solemnly to thee
With voices deep and hollow,—
"To the shore
Follow! Oh, follow!
To be at rest forevermore!
Forevermore!"
—James Russell Lowell
Snow blew out of the sky and obscured the way. The channel was nearly frozen. Laxus could hear the ice crunch off the wooden hull of his ship and winced every time. Fulgur was sturdy but she wasn't built for this kind of weather. She was a cargo ship meant to bring goods to the western cities, not a northern research vessel with a hull made of reinforced steel. But when a strong and errant storm grabbed them and altered their course horribly, bringing them into what Laxus' map had labeled as The Bad Lands, this was the only course of action he could fathom. The storm was barreling down on the sea, smashing into his ship worse than the ice was, and he needed to find shelter. There were islands with waters deep enough to accommodate Fulgur. They would protect from the storm, give them time to wait it out.
The islands jutted out of the sea like jagged and frozen teeth, ugly and devoid of life. Rocky and monstrous, they belonged to this part of the world. Only polar bears and the occasional migratory bird dared to grace their shores. If Laxus squinted hard through the blustering white of snow, he could make out a patch of red down below on a segment of rock, where a polar bear had made a kill and left behind a trace. The ship moved past it, slow-moving in the channel now that they were out of the storm's path, and creaking beneath the distant howling of the wind.
Freed appeared at Laxus' elbow. The tips of his hair were frozen and there was snow in his fur-lined hat. His cheeks had been chapped for days but those icicles in his moustache were new. "We're out of the worse of it, Captain."
"Good. I spied an opening in the channel ahead. We'll throw the anchors down there. It'll be a bit windier, I think, but we shouldn't have to get out and break the ice so often."
"Yes, Sir. I'll tell the men," Freed replied and gave Laxus his back. Laxus retreated further into his hood when a gust of wind picked up a layer of snow and threw it at him as if in defiance. The sea was not happy to be denied her meal. Laxus understood, he was also famished. He made sure to oversee the preparations, though, and didn't retreat inside until the watch changed.
Chef had prepared a lean meal. The first month of the voyage, Laxus ate like a king, they'd stocked up in Clover and would arrive at their destination with two weeks' rations to spare. He wished now he'd eaten more frugally. Cabbage and salted beef got old after the fourth week. He ate it, though, and the new kind of meat Chef had added to his brews, without much question. He could only imagine where it came from, what with the little bones that sometimes made their way into the mix. His grain store was faring better over the last few weeks, at least.
Inside his cabin smelled like, surprise, cabbage stew and winter. There was a meager fire burning in the hearth, they were running low on coal, too and needed it mostly at night when it got unbearably cold. Laxus kept his furs on and dropped himself down into his Captain's Chair, a carved wooden monstrosity gifted to him by a woman named Evergreen. It was ugly but it was comfortable.
The scullery door opened and Chef came through in an orange parka and a massive, tall chef's hat that wobbled on his head. His boots clunked on the floor, bringing him and the smell of cabbage to Laxus' nose. His stomach didn't know whether to rumble or revolt.
The metal plate clunked down in front of him. Chef removed the cover, revealing the golden and steamy stew, and set down the silverware. "Bon appetit."
"Make sure the men get some, too," Laxus commanded. They needed to keep their strength up. The only way they were getting out of this was together; he couldn't sail a ship on his own.
Chef nodded his head and almost lost his hat. He caught it. "Yes, Captain." He shuffled off again and Laxus sighed and wielded his spoon. The first bite was always the worst. After that, though, he remembered that he was starving after having to keep himself warm and he forwent the use of a spoon and slurped up all the broth first, leaving the chunks to the last, of which he ate the cabbage first. Below the leafy vegetable was the meat. Portions looked even smaller today. He bit each piece in half and chewed it thoroughly, pretending that it was more than what it was. He washed it down with whisky. That, at least, they had in abundance.
Laxus was in the process of savoring his last bite when he felt his ship list. His spoon went sliding to the deck along with the metal cover Chef used on his food. The whisky, too, took a dive. He caught his bowl before it could meet a similar end. The ship rocked back upright again, wood groaning loudly in protest, but swayed, the water in the decks below sloshing about.
"Freed!"
Freed's quarters were just below Laxus' and he usually answered promptly. Laxus gave it a moment, and then a moment longer. "Freed?" There was still no response so Laxus stood and tightened the buttons on his furs, intent upon investigating himself.
The weather had changed outside. It was even colder than before, though the wind had died down. Now, only the occasional funnel of snow could be seen whooshing across the rapidly freezing water between the protective islands.
"Better not get too much colder," Laxus muttered. His beard was already freezing, icicles forming by the condensation of his breath, not only that, though, but if the channel they'd come into froze completely, or, heaven forbid, the open ocean dared… They'd be stuck here. He'd heard of men going mad, trapped out on the water in a winter's storm. Sometimes, when food got scarce, they turned on each other. He was thankful things hadn't gone that far yet but how much longer did they have if a deep-freeze settled in? A month? Two at most?
The ship rocked again. Laxus felt his boots sliding on the icy deck. He yelled and grabbed the hand railing to keep himself from falling to the deck ten feet below. With a grunt and a groan and a splash of water, the ship came bouncing upright. Laxus expected to hear the yells of his crew but aside from a quiet whispering that sounded suspiciously like laughter, there was nothing.
Laxus corrected his footing and started down the frozen ladder. His hands kept trying to stick to the railing. At the bottom, he pulled out his sheepskin gloves and put them on. Men got hypothermia quickly in these parts, his grandfather always used to say; Laxus' father had. In fact, he lost his life to the sea in a storm very similar to this one, sudden, violent, and cold. The facts kept Laxus wary. "Hello?"
The anchor line on the bow twanged and shards of hoarfrost lifted into the air only to be snatched by a roaring gust of wind. Laxus expected to watch it until it blurred in with the sapphire dark sky on the horizon but the frost fell into a silk of pale hair. He had to come back to be sure. Yes, there was a woman on the edge of his ship, snowflakes for hair and frost for skin. She sang gently, voice lilting. Nails stained white tapping relentlessly on the railing kept her in tune. Laxus' heart seemed to beat in time with each fingerfall. He only stopped listening when he realized that his eyes had been closed and his feet were moving closer, closer.
Laxus didn't bother stammering or asking trivial questions like, 'Who are you,' because he knew. There were no women in these icy parts, and surely none so beautiful. Sirens, though. He knew plenty about those. Every sailor did.
"What have you done with my men?" At least his voice sounded certain.
Blue eyes opened and came his way. Her mouth smiled and when it reached its apex, the wind abruptly died and the snow fell not so thickly so Laxus could see that in the water below rested dark shapes just below the surface. "We don't get travellers this way very often."
"Release them."
"No."
"Now."
She stood, revealing herself. She didn't curl into furs and wools and hide. She was almost completely nude, actually, save for the places where the ice seemed to mould to her skin and block her most important bits from view. Laxus stared too much and worried too little upon her approach, unintentionally caught as she crossed the icy deck with ease and came to stand in front of him, close enough that she could be touched but far enough away that Laxus could still appreciate her beauty.
Gentle words invaded Laxus' ears. Distantly, he knew she was singing again. Or maybe she never stopped? He didn't remember. She reached out and took him by his wrists. Her touch was the temperature of the bitter sea but he liked it. Her skin, when she made him touch her waist, was even colder. Frost melted beneath his hand—what happened to his gloves? He didn't know. She took them off?—and the meltwater inched down the woman's belly.
Siren, his mind screamed. Siren, not woman. She felt like a woman, full and generous. She sighed like one, too. Her arms came around his neck, though she held him there, far enough away. Laxus filled his hands without really meaning to. She was lavish and, when the ice melted to reveal skin so pale, soft.
"How many men have you led astray?" Laxus asked to help himself focus.
"Not nearly as many as I would like, Captain," she responded.
Her voice. It was the sweetest melody that prevented him from releasing her when he thought to do it. Instead, he was pulling her in more. Or she was leaning in. Or something. Her fingers slid over his cheeks, through his beard and into his hair where she gripped and pulled him down just centimeters from her mouth.
Music swelled off the islands. Harps. Voices. Singing. Women were singing. Laxus couldn't look away from his passenger but he thought he could see more of her kind loitering in the water or on the rocky shoals near shore. His ship was surrounded.
"You can't leave now, anyway," his siren whispered. "You'll never make it out of the passage, just you. This is a kindness."
It felt like one. The first kiss she bestowed upon him was chaste. Her lips were so cold, they stuck to Laxus' and only came free when he brushed his tongue over the spot. Free was a relative term, though, because she construed his action for permission and deepened their contact. All at once, Laxus couldn't dream of getting away, though he knew that they were standing on the edge of the ship, the railing keeping them from plunging into the water.
"You're condemning us to death," Laxus tried, pleading as much to her as he was to himself.
"Your fate was sealed when you entered the passage," she responded against his lips. "This—" Her hands freed him of his layers. Frigid air swept over Laxus' suddenly bare shoulders and chilled him to the bone.
"This is—" His siren's touch wandered his bare skin. Laxus pressed against her without ever meaning to. She lifted onto the railing and wrapped around him. She was warm inside, at least; her mouth latched onto his neck and marked him forever.
"This is a—"
Her breath burned him, it was so cold.
"This is a kindness."
No. It wasn't her breath. The water. The water was cold. It welcomed his free-falling body with open arms and silenced his scream.
A/N: I was just watching something about folklore and thought I'd do a siren AU with minimal commitment. *shrugs*
Happy New Year.