melissa_42: drawn woman in a sweater (sea)
[personal profile] melissa_42
Title: Siren Song
Fandom: Latin Hetalia
Characters: Luciano/Martina (Brazil/fem!Argentina)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for creepiness and death
Word Count: 3,000~
Summary: Luciano's ship has been lured to its doom by a curious siren.
A/N: Characters aren't mine. This is an AU written for Creeper Week on Tumblr with Luciano as a sailor and Martina as a siren, though she's not quite like the ones described in that article.

Like the jagged teeth of some massive sea beast, a group of sharp rocks jutted above the surface of the water, the headstones of a graveyard for the ships and sailors who encountered them. Each rolling wave brought Luciano, who bobbed helplessly in the water, closer and closer to their ragged surfaces, threatening to batter him against their faces. He tried to swim against the force of the waves, but the frigid water and his heavy clothes slowed his movements. They did not, however, slow his mind, which raced in fear against the impending danger. This was it. This was the end.

As the next wave threw him toward the nearest rock, a strong hand grabbed the collar of his coat and hefted him from the water at the last moment. For a few minutes he heaved and coughed seawater from his lungs, until he finally risked squinting his eyes against the salty spray.

His rescuer, not one of his crew members as he had assumed, stared back at him with phosphorescent green eyes. Her skin was deathly pale, and the golden hair that cascaded down her back looked too soft and dry for someone in the middle of the ocean.

“It’s about time you stopped that,” the woman said in a voice like silk and chimes.

“Were you the one calling to us?” Luciano managed to croak, pushing his dripping hair off his forehead with a bloody hand.

“I was,” the siren replied. “You like my voice, I know; everyone does.” Her lips curled into a mockery of a smile around her pointed teeth.

“Infernal beast,” Luciano spat.

Her laughter was like shattering glass. “You don’t deny it,” she pointed out, clearly amused, and then, “Why do you smell different?”

“Different from whom?” Luciano’s eyes widened, and he turned his head to scan the rough sea. “Where is my crew?”

“Gone,” she replied simply with a shrug. “You smell funny.”

Gone. The men to whom Luciano had entrusted his life and his ship for months at a time. The men he had lead through Hell and back, whom he thought of as his own brothers. Gone. Vanished into the murky depths of legend, lured by this siren’s spell. Her voice was still entrancing, threatening to lull him into a stupor if not for the grounding effect of the cold and damp.

“I should have gone down with them,” he lamented. “Let me drown and be done with it.”

“No. I didn’t save you just to have you die so soon. Besides, your soul smells funny. I want to know what it tastes like.”

Luciano choked on hysterical laughter. He couldn’t look at the siren’s face - she was far too beautiful to be real. This entire moment was surreal. He must already be dead, and this was his introduction to Hell. Or he could be lying in his quarters with fever, but he was probably dead. It was just his luck. Couldn’t he have died someplace warmer? It was so cold, bone numbingly cold, and he felt as if he would never be warm again. And the demon-woman was staring at him intently, her pale lips slightly parted, and had she just said she wanted to eat his soul?

This was not happening. He told her as much in a voice much too high and broken for a ship captain as she leaned in and licked the salt from his cheeks. It was just sea water because he did not remember starting to cry, though he did not remember when he started to shake, either, his teeth clacking against each other, but he must have started that as soon as he hit the water.

Her face was too close and blurred behind the moisture in his smarting eyes. The trail left by her tongue against his cheek felt like fire. She trailed it down to his lips and then kissed him open mouthed, heat seeping between them.

Luciano felt paralyzed. He could not have pushed her away even if he wanted to. But…why would he want to escape from this beautiful creature? With each passing second his body grew weaker and weaker, limp in her hands, and his mind fought a losing battle against a black haze, shadows creeping into the edges of his vision and threatening to envelope him.

At last she pulled away. She was still too close to see properly, a blur of silver, emerald, and gold, and when he tried to reach a hand up to touch her, he found that his body was too limp to obey any orders.

“You taste funny, too,” the siren said. “Warm.”

“Cold,” Luciano whispered under the roar of the waves.

“No, definitely warm,” she corrected as she licked her lips. “I think I’ll keep you for a while.”

Luciano blinked, as if he were waking from a dream he had already half-forgotten, except he could not decide if the parts he could remember were actually from his dreams or from the waking world. His body felt light, like it might float away at any moment, and the dark shadows still lingered at the edges of his vision. When a gust of wind blew across the rock, he shuddered violently.

“I’m cold,” he repeated in a louder voice.

“Oh,” the siren said. “I’m not.”

Luciano felt like he should make some kind of indignant response to that, but then she covered his cheeks with her palms.

“Better?” she asked.

Swallowing, he shivered against the heat of her skin. She moved closer, not so much crawling as gliding across the rock and gathered him up close. With his face pressed to her shoulder, Luciano’s world centered on her touch, caught in a trance until all that mattered was keeping as close as possible to the siren.

She brushed a hand over his hair, tangling her fingers in his curls so she could pull his head back enough to get a good luck at him.

“What are you called, sailor?” she asked.

“You’re so beautiful,” Luciano whispered. He had not meant to say that, but being so close to her and hearing her melodious voice echo in his ears was making him lose his grip on reality.

A pleased smirk spread across the siren’s face, making her skin glow. “Of course. Now tell me your name.”

He wanted to tell her that it was none of her business, that who he was would not matter at all soon, but instead he heard himself tell her, “Luciano Da Silva.”

“Luciano Da Silva,” the siren repeated. “Your name is warm, too. You may call me Martina.”

Luciano watched Martina bare her teeth, and half of him wanted her to kiss him again and never stop. The other half asked very calmly, “You’re going to eat my soul, aren’t you?”


Even more calmly he asked, “And what happens after that?”

Martina shrugged and swiped a thumb beneath his eye.

“I don’t know. Now stop being so hysterical, there’s really no reason to cry. You won’t mind in a bit, anyway.”

“Please,” Luciano whispered, his tongue tripping over the words. “I’m not asking you to spare me, but please just let me drown. You’ve had your fun, you can’t take my soul, too. Just let me die in peace.”

“That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think?” Martina scoffed with pursed lips.

“Selfish!? I’m asking you to let me die. How is that selfish?

“Well, why can’t you share your soul with me? Why do you think you need it so much?”

That was a very good question, but Luciano was no philosopher, and his patience was wearing thin.

“Kill me. Be done with it.” Another gust of wind blew across him, freezing him to the core and causing him to cringe closer to Martina.

“I told you to stop being hysterical. You’re wasting your energy.”

Martina’s body was soft and dry, and most importantly it made Luciano feel warmer just from pressing against her. When she began to sing softly, he forgot what he had been complaining about and fell into her warmth.


Martina curled around Luciano Da Silva’s sleeping body, feeling his back rise and fall shallowly against her palm. He was still shivering, though not quite as much as before when she had first dragged him out of the water. She could not understand how he could be so cold when everything about him screamed warm warm warm, but this was an excellent excuse to stay close to him. His soul really did smell good, so different from any other sailor she had come across. Most men who sailed down this way were cold and hardened against life, but Luciano smelled like warmth and sweetness and the sun that broke through the clouds above once in a great while. He made her think of far off lands filled with laughter and smiles, though maybe it was just because she had been feeling lonely lately.

Since she had pushed everyone else away, she had not seen another of her kind in a few years. It had not taken her long to realize that working alone was much more difficult than working in a group, but stubbornness had prevented her from making amends and searching out her comrades. Besides, she had been able to make do by herself. Perhaps she had not been able to lure as many ships to their demise, but with enough impressionable sailors on deck, she could still find enough wayward souls to satisfy her. Luciano Da Silva’s ship had been especially easy, maybe because she had focused all her energy into her voice once she had caught a whiff of him.

She wanted his soul. She needed it. It called to her with an entrancing voice of its own, louder than the crashing waves, louder than her own heart beat. It promised to fill the gaping emptiness inside her that had spurred her hunger since the day she was born. Yet at the same time, she did not wish to see the light escape from his eyes, the spark of life that promised another day. How would she be able to smell him and hear him and taste him if he left her?

No. She would not let that happen. He would share his soul with her, but she would leave him a little, just enough to keep him with her. She did not need the others if she had him to keep her company.

She needed to taste him again. Slipping a hand between them, she plugged his nose between her thumb and forefinger and waited for him to begin sputtering.

He stirred against her.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She let go of her grip on Luciano’s nose in order to trace his cheekbones and lips with her fingertips. His skin was sticky with salt, but she imagined she could still feel its inherent softness just beneath the film. The lines around his eyes gave away his exhaustion, and he made a soft noise against her lips when she bent to press her mouth to his again.

There it was, the most divine feast she had ever tasted trapped behind his lips. His entire body was limp beneath hers again, giving in to the persistent swipes of her tongue. She was glad he had decided to listen to her and share himself with her. It was really self-centered of him to keep such a sweet soul to himself. She lapped him up greedily, and when he pulled away, his eyes remained hazy and unfocused, but she could still see him in them, enough indication that she had not gone too far yet.

“See, now that’s not so bad,” she told him with a small smile. “I told you it would be nice for us both.”

“Unh,” Luciano grunted, which she took as an agreement, and then he rasped out, “Martina…”

Her name sounded so sweet and warm on his lips. She had always considered it a cold, elegant name befitting a creature of her caliber, but Luciano managed to add a touch of magic to it that she had not realized was missing.

She tucked him closer to her again and felt his weakened — but still there — pulse under his skin with her fingertips.


Martina’s skin glowed like diamonds, like moonlight and stardust. With great effort, Luciano tried to drag his knees up and hook a leg over her waist in an attempt to latch onto her like a barnacle to a ship’s hull, but the most he could do was scoot a little closer to her.

He had had a ship once, he thought. That must be the reason he felt at home at sea, but then again he could not remember how long he had been lying here with Martina: minutes or days or years. Maybe he had always been here.  Maybe he did used to have a ship.

She was singing again, not loud and clear like she had once done ages ago. No, now her voice was soft and intimate, just for his ears. He could not understand the words she used, but he was sure they must be as beautiful as the lilt of her voice, quiet as it was, which wiped away the crash of the waves and drowned out all other senses, until the world revolved around Martina.

“Martina” he mumbled against her bare, hot skin, his head lolling against her breasts. His body felt like sand sifting through a sieve, each grain another ounce of energy, another piece of his mind drifting away. Had he used to live somewhere else? Or had Martina always been here with him, holding him together.

She paused in her song, and Luciano whined in protest.

“Say my name again,” she commanded. “I like your voice.”

What a lie; how could any voice compare to this angel’s? Luciano murmured her name again, letting it's syllables fall from his lips like pearls. He hoped she would kiss him again. It felt so nice when she kissed him, almost as nice as listening to her sing.

“You know, I don’t always eat souls,” Martina told him. She sifted her hands through his hair, which felt really, really nice. “Would you like me to catch something for you to eat?”


She slipped a hand between their bodies and pressed it to the soaking coat and tunic covering his abdomen. “I can feel your stomach vibrating against me. That means you’re hungry, right?”

If he concentrated, Luciano could feel a dull throb in his belly, a hollowness he could not place. It was no matter. Martina was here; he had no need for anything else.

Maybe she would kiss him again?

“I’ll catch you something,” Martina told him, rubbing his cheeks with her fingers. He moaned when she pulled away from his embrace, which made her smile.

“I know how disappointed you are that you won’t be able to see my pretty face for a few minutes, but I promise I’ll be back soon.”

Luciano’s eyes followed her as she slipped off the edge of the rock, lingering on her golden hair swirling in the water around her until she dove beneath the surface and out of sight. He lifted them to the sky but soon closed them with a sigh and a shiver. It was so cold, and everything ached—his head, his joints, and his heart. Why had Martina left? He did not want her to leave. Martina was warm. She was beautiful. He was so cold without her. She should come back and kiss him again.


It did not take Martina long to find a small school of fish not far below the water’s surface. Diving down, she stretched her arms out and waited for a few impressionable ones to be lured closer to her, bringing the entire school with them. Such a feast would have been enough to feed Martina’s cousin’s and other companions, but since she only needed food for Luciano, one was sufficient. With one quick movement, she snapped up a fish in her hand and kicked her way back up to the surface.

The squall from earlier had subsided, but a swift breeze still skimmed the ocean’s surface on its way to land. The cloud cover overhead blew with it, and she followed too with strong, sure strokes, the fish still wriggling between her teeth. When she finally reached the rock where Luciano still lay, she smacked the fish’s head a few times until it stopped flopping about. Then she clambered up next to Luciano and lay the fish in the palm of one of his slack hands, but he must have still been too exhausted because he did not seem to notice. He did not even open his warm, brown eyes. Bending down, she kissed his lips again—she just needed another taste.

Nothing. Just a light, vaguely salty flavor from the sea. No warmth, no sweetness, no Luciano. Pressing her lips more tightly to his, she slipped her tongue into his mouth—still nothing.

“Not fair,” she whispered to him. “It’s not fair. You were supposed to stay with me. I would have taken good care of you.”

Luciano made no response. Sighing softly, Martina threw the dead fish back into the sea and lay down next to him, curling around his body and burying her nose in his hair. If she tried hard, she was almost able to convince herself that she could still faintly smell his warmth.

For a few more hours they were safe, but soon the birds came to harass her. At first she hissed at them and clung to Luciano’s body like a lifeline, but finally she realized that it would be for the best to let him go. She kissed him one last time over his eyelids, ignoring his lips and their tastelessness, before wrapping her arms around him and sliding into the sea. Then she paddled a few meters out and let go, watching Luciano sink into the darkness, never to be seen again.
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melissa_42: drawn woman in a sweater (Default)

January 2012

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