A/N: I saw this movie last night, and fell in love with the Philip/Syrena arc. I've always had a fascination with mermaids, and I loved the 'Pirates' take on them. This one-shot takes place directly after Syrena kisses Philip and takes him into the pool with her.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; simply parts of the plot.
Humans were not supposed to be able to breathe under water, Philip knew that.
And yet, he was.
Swimming with Syrena for what had felt like hours, he'd needed to breathe. Reflexively, his lungs had expanded and contracted, his body needing oxygen. He'd expected to die as the water entered his lungs, but instead, only the much needed element had entered his lungs.
He was astounded.
Syrena's beautiful brown eyes looked at him as she swam, her powerful tail slicing through the water easily. She was gorgeous; her dark chocolate hair flowing in the water, her porcelain white face gleaming in the dim sea water.
He thought back over the course of the days, the trip; what the sailors had said and what Syrena had done.
"They say a kiss from a mermaid can keep a sailor from drowning."
A kiss from a mermaid?
He thought back to the pool; clutching the wound in his side as he went to Syrena. Their word exchange; the purity in her big brown eyes, looking so innocent. Her lips, so soft against his as she reached up, her thin fingers entwining in his hair before pulling him down into the water with her.
Her voice, the allure that shone in her as she tilted her head, biting her lip in a provocative way, even if she hadn't meant it to be.
And he had asked. He, a man of God-a man who had chosen to devote himself and his life to worshiping the lord-had asked a mermaid to save him. He'd asked a mermaid-a creature that had only lived in myths up until that point, a creature that had not been created by God-for salvation.
The impossibility of it all astounded him.
He looked at Syrena again, watching the way her body surged through the water; how arms that had been dainty on land were strong and powerful as they carried him. Legs that had been unable to hold her weight on dry soil were now a powerful tail, cutting through the water like a knife.
His eyes didn't sting in the water as he looked around; he felt just as he would had they been running through the forest. He shifted slightly, looking around him, at the sea floor as it rushed past them.
He didn't know where they were going.
His side stung; the wound throbbed as the salt water surrounded it, and pain flashed through him. He inhaled deeply, and the fact that no water rushed into his nostrils, only oxygen, continued to astound him.
It should be seen as a miracle of God-and yet, it was the work of a mermaid.
Of the creature who had captured his heart.
He could not deny he felt something for Syrena; he looked at her, and his stomach tightened, and he felt lightheaded. His heart sped up, and his skin heated up; it pooled in his cheeks and his stomach, sending sensations through him that he'd never experienced before.
She was beautiful; she had a beauty that he had never had the opportunity to behold before. She was irresistible, with her innocence and beauty. Her brown eyes were so wide and intriguing; framed with thick dark lashes, Philip felt himself get lost in them.
And her voice; it was soft and gentle, but could be raspy and beautiful when she sang.
And she herself; she had saved him, instead of killing him. Instead of wanting to drag him down and have her way with him before killing him, she'd saved him.
"You are different than the others."
He loved her. It was impossible and wrong in every way, and yet-it wasn't.
It was impossible to breathe underwater, and yet he was.
As though she knew he was thinking of her, Syrena looked at him, her hands low around his waist, her breasts firm against his chest as she swam. Her brown eyes peered at him through the cloud of brunette hair that surrounded her head, and he reached up a hand to tuck the strands behind her ear, knowing they wouldn't stay there as they glided through the water.
Her lips curved into a hesitant smile, and he caught a brief glance at the fangs she kept hidden from him. He felt no fear; he brought a hand up to her lips, running one finger along the full bottom lip before it traced her right fang.
Syrena pulled him closer, and her lips descended on his again. He welcomed the warm flesh against his in the cold water, warmth flooding his body. He forgot about his studies, about the cross that hung from his neck and his promise to God. The kiss was full of everything they'd never say; full of wanting and longing and all the impossibilities of that moment.
Philip embraced the impossible-as long as it involved Syrena, and her hands in his, her lips on his.
The impossibility of loving a mermaid loomed on the approaching horizon.