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Siren's Song
The ship is eerily quiet.
It’s never quiet. There are no winds in the sail and the sound of splashing water against the front has ceased. It’s night, your crew is sleeping, and the air is hushed, soundless.
You walk to the side and lean over to watch the waters. It's like its black depth has swallowed all sound from the surface.
Your first bout of ‘something is wrong’ creeps up on you like a shadow in the darkness. Not even the sails flutter like they would in the mildest of breezes.
The boat isn’t shifting with the water. There’s no comforting rocking in the small waves, and the weathered boards don’t complain for once. You pull at the feathers of your dark gray cap and gaze out into the eternal black where sea and sky blend into one, just the tips of the waves kissed by the moon’s silver grow.
There’s nothing but the vast, empty sea. Water as far as the eye can see and beyond.
You can’t stifle the concern creeping up your spine and settling in your bones before you even make the conclusion. One word jumps to the forefront of your mind, a word that every sailor dreads. A word that, essentially, means death.
Aground.
You learned this word before you even became captain. Kirstein senior taught it to you. Everyone knows it for its reputation of instilling pure horror in sailors — it’s the worst possible scenario when you’re out on the vast sea with nothing but sky and water on the horizon. Running aground is a fear accompanying every cruise like a blind passenger.
You scour the water again and make out the ocean ground. You shouldn’t be able to see the sand. It confirms your worst fear. Your breath shallows and your heartbeat quickens. You lose the feeling in your arms and legs. You’ve only felt this feeling once before.
When you were new, green — when you were a kid. First time on the sea.
Now, you’re older, more experienced. Except —
Your body is still paralyzed with fear. Because —
You’ve run aground.
~
You don’t wake your crew. Nothing to be done anyway — just have to wait for a wind strong enough to get you moving again. Your crew deserves one more night of peaceful unawareness.
It was supposed to be a simple trip around Cape Horn. No stops, no complications. Just there and back on a simple order before Easter, but unforeseen issues with the cargo, the people, the wind set you back weeks.
The tide was supposed to be higher when you sailed these waters, but your delay cost you the security of the depth below. Things never go to plan when you take care to make one.
God —
The ship is quiet. It’s unusual. Weird.
Normally, the creatures on the ship are loud, boisterous. They cuss, laugh, and shout all day long. But tonight? In the shadows?
It’s quiet. Noiseless. You wonder if the creatures on board are sick or dead.
The ships around here usually know better than to sail into your homeland. Why didn’t this one?
Your eyes scan the deck to see if you can spot one of those creatures. Your father would sever your arms for getting so close, following your curiosity. He’d call you foolish. Reckless.
Ah, well. Your father’s not here.
Half submerged in the water, you move closer to the side of the ship.
~
A few minutes after basking in the pale moonlight and crunching on seaweed is when you spot him. At least, you think it’s a ‘him’, you’re still not quite versed in their terminology and genders.
He looks —
Scared, almost — horrified?
His hands are covering his ears and he walks around the deck with tentative steps. His lips move, forming silent words, but you’re not close enough to hear them. He’s wearing a weird headpiece adorned with beads, pearls, and feathers. You’ve never understood why these creatures cover themselves in such fabrics. Either it’s some kind of armor — a weak one at that — or they’re embarrassed by the bodies the moon has given them. The turd on his head almost looks like a rainbow shat it out and —
A chuckle escapes your mouth before you remind yourself you’re supposed to be stealthy. He can’t know you’re here, so close. Who knows what he’d do. You scan your surroundings, eyes grazing the side of the the ship, maybe to find —
An opening!
It’s not what you were looking for, but it’s not not what you were looking for. Your curiosity takes the reins and you can’t help yourself but to advance, drawn to it like a fish to a reef. Oh if your father could see you now. He scolds you from within your own head.
A small, round, hole is carved out in the side of the vessel, above water level. It’s just the right height for you to stick your head inside and have a look while your tail holds your balance in the water. The small waves camouflage your movements around the quiet ship. Maybe these things sleep while the moon is up?
You can’t relate. You’re used to hiding from the sun because it hurts your delicate eyes and skin. Maybe these creatures are different? They’re so fascinating , you can’t help but get closer.
You find yourself right under the opening.
You grip hold of the rim, hoist yourself up and squeeze your whole upper body through the hole and —
You gawk. The room is filled with colors, patterned fabrics, and shiny things . Your breath is taken away by the piles of glittery bits and bobs in the small room. It’s lit up like there’s a sun in there, but it all seems to come from a small light source in the corner. You’ve never seen a light like that. It’s almost like it’s alive . Dancing in the small breeze that carries through the opening that you’re currently occupying.
You notice an enormous, blood-red stone sitting on a level surface just within reach of your grabby hands. It’s pretty and shiny and your fingers itch for it.
One minute it sits on sky-blue fabric and the next it’s in your pale wet hands.
Whoops. Your father would have your head if he caught you stealing like that.
The stone stings like ice in your hand, you’re so surprised you almost drop it. You’re just about to leave when the door flings open. You flinch and freeze as wide eyes catch yours and pin you down.
“What the fuck.”
The instinct to bolt rushes through your body and you try to wiggle out of the hole, but your shoulders get stuck and —
The creature takes a step towards you. Your fascination gets the better of you and you look . It’s the same one as before. The frightened one with the odd head piece. Except he’s not wearing it now and his golden-brown hair flows down to his shoulders. If you were the same species, you’d probably make your moves on him.
You know, the moves you don’t have. Yet.
He starts talking to you and you’ve learned a bit about their language since they so frequently pass by your homeland, but most of the words you don’t know. He does sound —
Confused?
Confused is probably what he is. Here you are, just hanging out in a hole in his ship, and he looks like he wants to skin you alive. For fear of your precious life — and your poor mother’s heart — you do the only thing you can think to do. Since you can’t communicate with him, you —
You sing.
~
By the moon, he looks even more bewildered now, but your song does seem to lull him into a state of paralysis. If you can just manage to wiggle your way out before the daze wears off, then everything will be fine.
You sing the only song you know. A song of love and lust. The song of your people. But —
You’re too young to have fully mastered it yet. You mess up the tune.
He blinks before he finds that he can move his limbs again and —
He starts yelling, shouting. He uses words you don’t know and you’re still holding the red rock in your slippery hands, but —
Suddenly, mid rant, he seems to notice the other half of your body that’s hanging out of the other side of the hole. He goes quiet and walks closer to you, sneaks a glance outside the hole and gasps.
“You! You’re — a-a fish!”
You snort, because of the one word you know, he couldn't be farther from the truth. Yes, you have a tail, but you’re sure as hell not some dimwitted fish. But then he keeps talking.
“God, I’m going crazy, aren’t I?”
He keeps repeating that one word, ‘God ’, and you’re not sure what he means by that. It seems like he’s talking to someone, but no one else is there. He mentions a few words you do know.
‘Siren ’, ‘help ’, ‘why '.
“But then —”
Moon, you just want to go home — or at least get away from this weirdo. You start to shrivel your way out of the situation — literally — and finally manage to get unstuck as you back the hell out of there. A firm grip around your wrist prevents you from slipping into the safety of the sea. He looks at you with an expression that has lost the sharpness of his anger. Instead, it hosts confusion and sorrow and more that you can’t quite name. Your head is spinning from trying to read his eyes. At last, he seems to have come to a conclusion.
“Can — can you sing to me again?”
That word, you know. He wants you to sing to him. His soft tone confuses you, considering the way he was yelling at you before.
You shake your head, but his grip traps you against the ship and you can neither go up nor down. You consider biting him. Your fangs aren’t just for show. You flash them in an attempt to scare him off, but he seems more fascinated than intimidated by your half-hearted snarl. You sigh and retaliate, honestly this thing is getting on your last nerve but you don’t want to harm it either —
Your slick wrist is about to slip out of his grasp, he catches your hand in his, fingers intertwining, and —
A warmth zings through your body, your heart beats loudly in your chest, and you can feel a gasp leave your mouth.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
This dude — this oddity of a creature — with the weird hair and the strange headpiece and the annoyingly pretty eyes — is your mate? He’s not even the same species as you, what the moon is going on?
You’re at a loss. Nevertheless, you start to sing. It’s the same song as before, but this time, you try harder to hit the right notes, not wanting to risk messing up again. You wish you’d remember what your father taught you about this song. Had you paid more attention to his lessons, you’d know more about it than the fact that it’s about love. You’d remember the story he told you while you were busy scrubbing the plankton off your shell bracelet.
But you seem to do a decent job with it this time. He looks at you like you’re the light of his life. Like you’ve given him a purpose lost. Like —
All it takes is a few notes and you’re released from his dry and warm hold. You fall into the cold, dark waters that immediately comfort your sensitive skin. Your gills fan out and you take a deep breath — home. It’s time to leave. You’re just about to swim away — fuck whatever the moon says, right? — you’re not having this guy as your mate, you’ve decided, when you hear a splash behind you. You stop and turn. He jumped .
His hair is wet against his forehead, and he’s making these weird circular arm movements —
He’s coming closer. Against your better judgment, you allow him to. He looks at you in a way that makes you feel warm.
“All I want to do is kiss you.”
You completely miss the meaning of the words that left his mouth — not like you’d understand them, anyway. The creature’s getting awfully close and looks at your lips and something feels tingly in your stomach and you catch yourself looking at his lips, too —
It’s your turn to be confused. You’re free to swim away, but something keeps you from it, a strange sense of anticipation, a spark sizzling on the surface of the water. You don’t move as a hand cups your jaw and soft hazel eyes caress you like a wave. You don’t move as you feel a warm and humid breath graze your lips, an above-water sensation you don’t know. It tingles on your lips and in your spine. And when soft, wet lips touch yours, it’s like a mellow current drags you away and showers over your skin. The hair around his jaw tickles your smooth chin, and it’s weird and good and makes your gills flap erratically and your tail swish from side to side under water. You don’t even realize that the soft purring noise is coming from you until those eyes meet you from a distance again and the creature smiles sheepishly.
“Not bad, huh?”
You’re lost for words. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you need to consciously slow your agitated gills and tell your tail to calm down. You have no idea what that was, but the tingling in your body remains. A form of magic you don’t know? You huff for lack of anything better to do.
Why, why, did your mate have to be the absolute strangest creature of all the creatures there are? He doesn’t even have gills. He looks weird without it, like he’s missing a limb. Seriously, is this your punishment for giving your mother a heart attack every time you left home? For worrying her with —
“I’m Jean.”
He repeats those words while making strange gestures and pointing to himself. Okay, so you’re doing names now. Sure — he is kind of pretty. The way his blond hair shapes his face — his amber eyes bright under light of the moon and the way that the peculiar hair growth on his chin somehow is endearing. Your fingers itch to reach out and touch it. You repeat his gestures and say your name. He doesn’t seem to be able to grasp it and you try to pronounce your name the same way you’d say words in his language.
“Eren.”
It sounds strange to your ears but —
He smiles. “Eren,” he repeats, and it’s the first time you think your name sounds like music.
Okay, he might be a bit more than just pretty.
~
You decide to hang around and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you can’t seem to rip yourself away from Jean. You bask in the moonlit seas and he basks in the shallower parts where his feet barely reach the ground, as if he’d exhaust himself from floating. He keeps looking at you like your mother looks at your father, and it makes you nervous and giddy and playfully flippant. You notice him admiring your tail, another thing he doesn’t have. You wonder how he gets around in the water at all with those two inflexible sticks in place of a proper tail. It makes sense that he has to move his arms around to make up for the lack of fins.
You decide to humor him and roll your tail to make a splash. The corners of his mouth curl up and it brightens his entire face, so you do it again, making bigger and bigger splashes. This time he laughs out loud. And it’s another kind of music to your ears.
Mate.
~
You play around with him until the horizon tinges a corally red in the east. You have to leave — you try to tell him that, but he doesn’t understand that you need to get out of the fucking sun. You decide to just take a dive and hope he takes the hint.
~
He follows you.
The sea’s not deep, and he keeps his head above the water while following you. He’s so slow. Slower than the slowest fish. He takes a breath every minute or so which makes him even slower. Of course. The lack of gills.
He can’t breathe under water.
The realization fills your heart with sorrow, because you secretly hoped he’d be able to follow you home. Will he die without air?
You start wishing he’d stop following you. Won’t he get lost without his ship? You’re sure it’s just a matter of time before he gives up and returns to his floating home. Too bad, but it’s better this way.
It would never have worked between you, anyway. Why the moon decided he’s your mate is beyond you. It must have made an error.
Although — Jean is very beautiful. And you wouldn’t trade this night for anything in the world.
You follow the creature gliding effortlessly beneath the waves. He’s gorgeous, ethereal, otherworldly . You feel like he was born just for you. Or you just for him? Long brown braids swirl around his head in the water. He has pointy ears and small fangs that peek out of his mouth whenever he closes it. His eyes —
God, his eyes. They’re really something else. Green, blue, gold. A mosaic of the colors of the sun and sea. He's the most beautiful person — creature? half-fish half-man? — you’ve ever seen and you can’t help but follow him. No matter the cost.
And there’s the fact that from the waist down, he has a tail . It’s bold and shifts colors in the moonlight. And it’s strong. He’s strong and young and wild and free. He swims with coordinated strokes, with an ease that takes your breath away. His beauty blinds you to your life at home. You just want to be with him forever.
You wonder if he is what you first thought when you saw him on your ship.. A creature no more than a myth scholars have been writing about for centuries. Yet he’s not a myth. Not to you.
Siren.
You don’t listen to that irritating, rational part of your brain that warns you of peril. Because how could this lovely, delicate, almost fragile looking creature ever harm you? He had the chance. But he didn’t. Instead, he sang to you. Allowed you to kiss him. He’s yours and you know that for a fact like you know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. All the world’s love combined can not compare to your love for him. His angelic voice and the foreign words have infiltrated your heart, embossed your soul, your being. You have no other choice but to follow wherever he goes.
Where the water deepens, he dives. You can still hear that graceful melody in your head and you can’t afford to lose it. You need it, you need him. He’s yours and you are his.
You know this might be the day you die. But giving up on your love for Eren will kill you with absolute certainty. So you choose to take a deep breath and dive into the depth of the ocean, swim as far as your body will carry you.
Why is he still following you?
Your pace slows down, almost unconsciously, to account for his horrendous swimming skills. You know he needs air to survive, but with the way his cheeks are puffed up, like he’s filled them with air, tells you something else. Maybe he’ll use the stored air for his stay in your kingdom. You hope he’s smart enough to know how much air he has, or else you might have just killed your mate .
Me must feel the bond between you, but you don’t think it’d make him stupid enough to risk his life. He keeps smiling at you with bright white teeth and sparkling eyes. Is that normal between mates, or is yours just super strange?
You notice his amber eyes are trained on yours. He is very pretty, for a weirdo at least. You can’t help but puff up your gills at the thought of him being your mate — you take his hand in yours. He looks ecstatic, and you’re compelled to sing for him again.
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.
Bubbles escape from his mouth faster than you’d anticipate. You swim faster, pull him deeper. If you can just get him home , everything will be fine.
If he —
He’s taken your hand — pulls you deeper. He’s singing to you. Your head feels light and your lungs burn — they start to contract, futilely trying to pull in air. You’ve run out. Your eyes water and mix with the saltiness of the sea. You don’t know how to tell Eren — can’t talk under water, and at last, the bubbles of the last remaining air break from your mouth, and even as the salt water infiltrates your body, all you can think about is his song, until your mind turns black. But, it’s all okay because —
He’s celestial, the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.
He’s yours.
You’re —
You keep singing to him while you dive deeper into the darkness of the sea.
You can’t wait to introduce him to your mom. She’s going to —
Suddenly, you notice the hand in yours has gone limb. You look back and his eyes are dim, milky. You don’t know how long you’ve been under the water, but his skin is pale, ghostly, with a slight tint of blue. Your eyes keep focusing on his. A gray hue covers the once beautiful, vibrant amber.
Your eyes widen in terror — flick from side to side, searching for an unknown answer. Your usually calm heart threatens to blast out of your chest. Your tail creates a current that swirls his hair around — his beautiful, golden hair. How could you let this happen?
Maybe he —
You’re supposed to —
To protect him. To be there and hold his hand. That's the whole point of the moon giving you a mate. You failed. You failed the moon, but worst of all —
You failed him. A myriad of coos and gurgles leave your lips.
Can you —
Your head is frenzied, disjointed and your mind zip from one unfinished thought to another while anxiety overtakes your body.
What if you —
Question after question and no answer in sight. As a last resort, you brush your trembling lips over his blue ones. When he did it, it felt like lightning zapped through your body, it felt right, and now —
Nothing.
You feel empty.
Melancholy fills up your small body as you hold his shriveled hand in yours. You let your fingertips softly brush up his arm, up his neck. You pull him closer.
His hair is soft.
A voice inside your head says he’s dead. You killed him.
Your mate.
Your father’s forgotten words rush back to you in an instant. You suddenly remember why you were never told about the meaning of the song. Why you’ve never heard of anyone singing it above the waters.
Why you must keep away from the ships that roam the sea.
But —
He’s your mate.
You look back at your odd companion. Guilt and remorse rip apart your heart and you didn’t even know him. You didn’t have to, because he is — was — yours. Your other half, life’s companion, heart’s desire.
Kindred soul. True love. Mate.
You’re treading waters in the middle of the deep, blue ocean. Your hand is still in his, but the heat of his hand is fleeting.
If you were above water, you’d have tears trailing down your cheeks.
Why would the moon give you an unattainable mate?
~
When you let his hand go, his body sinks into the black deep.
Your heart goes with him.
You keep swimming.
~
You don’t go home.
Your body hits the ground of the cold, dark sea. The ocean lays you to rest in a bed of sand. Covers your still body with a weighted blanket of deep water. You still have a smile on your face and the siren’s song in your head. It’s serene here in the depth, where almost no light dares to reach. Time passes with the tide until the full moon picks at your skin. You become weightless, float without the confines of your body that slowly dissolves under the magnetic lunar pull. You wonder if this is life after death and if it is, you’re happy with it, being one with the sea, the place you met your mate.
Your mate. Wherever he is, you hope he doesn’t blame himself. To you, it was worth it. If you could go back, you wouldn’t change a thing. Your soul prickles thinking about him. Your arms and tail tickle, and it sloshes wildly in the water. You glide and… your throat burns, on the left side and the right. If you could just — pop — ah, yes, that’s better. You take a deep breath through your gills and salty water fills your lungs along with the energy of the moon.
It’s not until something bumps into you — a fish? — that you open your eyes. And realize that you’re not bodiless at all. Below you, your amber tail glistens silver when you move, and you get so excited that you move it way too much — bumping into a giant coral reef. It hurts. And you want to cry because it hurts, because that means —
“I’m alive.”
Time works differently when your lungs work on water. You move faster but your heart beats slower, answers to the rhythm of the waves and synchronizes with the night. You don’t know how long you’ve been looking but it feels like a lifetime of chasing the melody embedded in your heart. And you know that one day you’ll hear it again, when you find him.
There are things humans and sirens don’t know. When the sea answers to the moon, it follows the call of its mate; it dances to its tune. Just like the sea, you follow your siren’s song until it leads you home.