𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

the siren who wore nico's face

[SETTING.📽️] Days into a sea voyage, aboard a small rebel vessel, steady waves rocking beneath moonlight. The boys are asleep below deck. Bea stands alone on the top deck, unable to sleep.

Bea didn't mean to wander too close to the edge of the ship. The sea was calm that night, unusually calm, almost reverent. 

She stood in the shadows, wrapped in a heavy shawl, her fingers resting on the railing, amber eyes catching silver moonlight.

SEVEN months pregnant and exhausted from everything: the travel, the movement of the ship, the ache in her lower back but her mind was still racing. 

She missed him. Nico. It had only been a week since she watched him disappear into the horizon with the others, chasing supplies from a nearby port. He was supposed to meet them halfway through the route home, but the silence had stretched thin over her heart like paper. 

And then... she heard it.

"Bea..."

The voice slithered out of the waves like a lullaby. Low. Familiar. Heart-wrenchingly familiar.

She turned sharply.

There, standing on the other end of the deck, half-covered in mist and sea spray, was Nico.

Or what looked like Nico.

Same tired eyes. Same dark tousled curls. Same crooked, gentle smile. Same voice that made her chest tighten with something she couldn't name.

"Come here, my love," the thing whispered. "Why are you so far away?"

Bea froze, her breath caught in her throat. "Nico...?"

But something felt off. The voice had no warmth. It mimicked him too perfectly. Too clean. No stutter, no breathless laugh. No teasing sarcasm. No pirate edge.

And when it tilted its head, the eyes weren't his. Not fully. They were glassy. Empty like pearls. And when it smiled again... it was just wrong.

"You miss me, don't you?" it cooed. "I miss you too. Come to me. Come closer. You don't have to be tired anymore. You don't have to wait."

It reached a hand out toward her.

For one fleeting second, Bea's body swayed.

He was right there. Her husband. Her home. The father of the child she carried. She wanted to bury her face in his chest and sob.

But then, she remembered.

Nico's hands were calloused and warm. This creature's fingers shimmered like wet glass. And Nico would never say, "Come to me," while floating several inches above a ghost-slick surface of water.

Her heart kicked hard in her chest. She stepped back.

"You're not him," she whispered.

The thing blinked. Its smile twisted, no longer soft.

"Pity," it rasped. "You would've made a lovely grave."

And in a blink, it was gone — slipping into the ocean like a reflection shattered.

Bea stumbled back against the mast, clutching her shawl, breath ragged. A single splash echoed into the darkness, then silence.

Below deck, Sonya stirred. Harriet murmured. But none of them knew what had happened.

She slid down to sit, pressing a hand to her belly, whispering soft words to the baby she carried.

"I miss him too."

And above them, the stars blinked, cold and distant, like they too were keeping secrets.