Captain Arthur Kirkland in his ten years on the sea had known, felt, and experienced many things.
He knew what it was like to felt the salty wind at his back, how it would snap the sails like a whip
He knew the smell of burning wood and the sweet satisfaction of watching an enemy ship sink into the depths.
He knew the rhythm of his ship, the dance it made on the waves.
He knew the slick sound of a blade passing through flesh and the resistance of bone and tissue.
He knew the sound of crushing bones as a lead ball hits a human body head on.
Most of all, he knew pain. The impact and second of nothingness before the overwhelming sensation of a bullet lodging itself beneath skin. The bite of twenty lashes, the seemingly never-ending agony and the marks it made on his skin that never quite went away.
He knew of true thirst and hunger. How the tongue would shrivel and stick to the paper insides of the mouth. When a mere sip of water became like priceless ambrosia that men would kill over. The hollow feeling he got inside and the gnaw of the stomach digesting itself and the sheer nausea of starvation. And food was made out of the most disgusting and unspeakable of things.
Yet with all of that experience of suffering and pain nothing, nothing measured up to the torture of the sound he was hearing on that sunny, windy day.
At first he had thought some damned sea creature was dying, crying out as its life was slowly being torn from it. But after a few moments it became apparent that the wail had some sort of sick and twisted rhythm and some semblance of words. After figuring that much out it took Arthur another blasted minute to figure out that the horrid sound was some wanker's idea of a song. By that time the whole crew was screaming out, "Dear God, just make it stop!" covering their ears in an attempt to block the shrieks.
Migraine pounding his temples Arthur called out, "Where's that blasted noise coming from?"
"Over there Captain!" a sailor pointed to the port side as he held onto one ear.
Arthur ran, brandishing a gun. Under his breath he swore to kill the source of the hellish wails. He reached the side and leaned over along with the crew members who could move and possessed a gun. Arthur's ears and eyes searched the wavy blue sea and pinpointed a dirty blonde head.
The gun was instantly aimed and cocked, "I'm giving ya one second to shut your mouth before I blow your head off ya damned scum!" Never mind he was a man overboard, he was about to just put this man out of his misery.
The singer thankfully stopped but unfortunately started a laugh that was almost as bad, "Ha ha ha! You got a problem with my singing, Captain?"
"That infernal screeching could hardly be called 'singing'."
"Aw, are you sure? I sang it just for you~" sang the man.
There was the crack of a gunshot and the man in the water ducked just in time before a bullet shot right where his head was and into the water. "The next shot is in your head if you sing one more word. Now tell me scum who are you?" Arthur said, pulling out another gun and cocking it.
"Alfred!" said the man and Arthur could see his smile from the distance he was standing, "What's your name?"
"Captain Arthur Kirkland. Now Alfred, if you do not get up here on this here ship in thirty seconds you'll know just how crushing the bottom of the deep can be."
"I can go on your ship Artie? Sweeeet. Will I get to sail with you?"
"It's Captain Arthur to ya scum. And you will get up here so I can personally give you fifty lashes, punishment for your screeches. If you can still stand after that I'll consider having you as a cabin boy savvy?" Arthur smirked at the mental image of that smile getting wiped off the lad's face.
To his irritation the blonde man's grin only increased in its intensity, "As fun as all of that sounds I think I'll stick to singing."
"Very well then, men blow the man down!" at the command the whole crew eagerly fired at the obnoxious man.
Said man's laughs were cut off as he dove underwater. A minute passed and Arthur order his men to ceasefire (couldn't have them use too much ammunition) and scanned the water. He looked at the blue liquid expecting for a patch of red to bloom or for an oxygen deprived head to pop out. Another minute passed and Arthur began to get increasingly irritated and reloaded his gun.
Right when he was going to turn away and call him drowned there came another obnoxious laugh from the other side of the ship, "Over here!"
Arthur ran over to the other side and shot his gun as soon as he saw the man. Again the teen ducked under the water and appeared in seconds, "Well, it was nice to finally meet you Artie. I'll be sure to visit tomorrow!" and with that he dove back in the water and to Arthur and his crew's immense surprise flashed a large fish tail.
"That couldn't be…a siren?" a crewmember by him, Willy muttered.
Siren? He had heard the stories as had any other sailor or pirate of the fish-tailed women who lured men to their deaths with their beautiful bodies and singing. Arthur was pretty sure the thing was male and his voice could not possibly be considered decent. And the beautiful body? Arthur didn't see more than a tail and a head. Whatever it was hopefully it was gone for good.
Arthur looked around at the chatty crew, "What are ye pansies doing? Get back to work!"
Much to Arthur and the whole crew's dismay Alfred was back the day after. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that. It became routine for there to suddenly be a screeching noise from nothingness that Arthur almost became used to it. Not to say he wasn't extremely irritated not to mention the bullet and gunpowder supply had been decreasing at an alarming rate.
No matter the weather Alfred stopped by. Even when the waves were as big as the ship and the wind howling and the lightening dangerously close a voice rose above the rain and thunder. And the worst thing: Arthur could make out the words.
"Oh your green eyes! Like glowing algae!"
Arthur would have shot the git if his hands were not preoccupied with holding onto the helm and steering through the tempest.
"Your dull hair is like the dying seaweed!" The voice cracked and so did Arthur's patience.
"Someone shoot that bastard!" he yelled over the raging weather. But everyone was hanging on the ship with their life as the waves pounded the ship and water swamped the deck and tugged the pirates to the sea. And the song went on…
The tune had changed, "Artie! If you fall I will catch you and we'll-," oh God he could not listen anymore.
"Toris," he yelled, "Kill that beast!"
"A-aye, aye Captain!" the brunette youth nervously made his way to the side of the ship the voice was coming from. After a few slips and near tumbles he finally made it to the edge. Cautiously Toris reached for his gun but just as his fingers touched the wood of the ship's rail a giant wave crashed on that side of the ship. One second all Arthur could see was white water, the next just an empty spot where Toris had stood.
"Man overboard!" Arthur yelled cursing under his breath. The crew that could help ran to help but as they looked down at the churning waters there was no man to save. In the back of his mind Arthur realized that in some twisted way the siren had done what it had intended to do, taken a sailor with its voice.
The singing had stopped.
And so starts my first ever written USUK piece. I've been wanting to post it here for awhile but I just couldn't figure out how to use this site ^^' I hope you guys like it, I promise it gets better as it goes along.
Btw I had this idea for a looong time and I thought for awhile it was going to be original but sure enough, while I was into the fifth chapter or so a merman!America and pirate!England came out. Oh well. It was pretty awesome though, I would highly recommend it and another I came across; unfortunately I forgot what they are called but if you PM me I'll send a link. With that said if there happens to be things in this fic that are similar to those in others please just ignore them, I really didn't copy anyone they are just coincidences and this is a totally different story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Nothing at all really.