Chapter Text
Her hair swirls underwater, like liquid fire as sunlight pierces it, where some of her sisters have dark or golden hair, she is the only one with scarlet, and she thinks it makes her unique.
While she is right, it also makes her stand out, and she's caught the attention of a man, no mere mortal who swoons over the sirens of the sea, but the fearsome pirate Lord Baelish, maester of coin to the current Pirate King, Jon Snow.
North, where the waters run colder, so cold they should be frozen but for their sheer mass and the quantity of salt, she's heard stories of the king.
He's lived and died and lived again, supposedly due to black magick.
She's not sure how much stock she puts in these tales, merely because the blonde mermaid who told her has a small fascination with the king.
Dany has had her share of lovers, sometimes human, sometimes merpeople, but Sansa cannot judge her too harshly, she was born the other half of a twinset, and was lucky enough to outlive her other half, who died on account of his madness.
When Sansa does breach the surface, and feels the warm sun on her face, she only keeps her eyes shut a moment before turning to the outskirts of the cove, spotting a familiar ship instantly.
It is him.
The Pirate Lord with the sneer sharp enough to cut through any lie, and hair the color of ash and smoke.
She would be afraid if she didn't trust that she could kill him quite easily. He is only a mere man after all, and men do not breathe underwater.
She smiles to herself, and then swims to a rock, pulls herself upon it, and begins to sing. She knows he will not be lured, but he will listen.
*
Petyr draws out his telescope, and turns his eye from the horizon to the Mermaids Cove, dangerous as it may be to enter, observing is no such risk.
There she was...the maid with the hair like light through a ruby, and skin paler than cream.
She was singing too, and Petyr suddenly ached to be close enough to hear her, though it could easily be his doom.
He didn't think he'd mind.
If he could die in her arms, he'd die quite happily.
It wasn't a difficult choice, but it was a foolish one.
So as he began to do his best to fulfill his sudden wish, Petyr blamed the sheer amount of rum he'd consumed that night, when he borrowed a boat, and began to row into the cove, under cover of dead of night, and with only the slice of the silver moon in the sky to guide him.
He wanted her at his side, even for a moment.
"Come out come out, where is the siren with the red hair?"
Petyr called out, hoping he didn't sound as drunk as he felt.
Moments passed, and the only sound he could hear was the slow lapping of the sea against the side of his little boat.
He was fully prepared to continue to shore, and crash upon the sand and sleep the blurred night of his failure away...but then he heard something, like the sighing of an angel.
Petyr turned around slowly, to the back of the boat, and spotted something in the distance.
"Is it you?"
He asked, his voice falling to a hushed whisper.
The object moved closer, and his forced his eyes to focus.
Her red hair was slicked back, but her eyes seemed to glitter in the darkness at him,
"Curious Pirate, you're in dangerous waters."
Petyr could have laughed aloud, but he sensed that would be the wrong thing to do.
"Sweetling, I've come to see you, only you. I mean you no harm. I wish only to speak to you."
The siren licked her lips, and drew closer, close enough to reach out and touch his boat, and he knew, if he made one wrong move, she'd flip him over, and drown him before he could call for help.
"You've been watching me from a distance."
She said, her gaze roving him with her own curiosity.
His shirt gaped in the front, and he knew she would probably notice his scar before anything else.
Women usually did.
"I have. But the only way you could know this is if you looked back...hmm?"
He smirked, and was rewarded with a half smile of her own.
"Indeed. I sang for you, and I hoped you'd come to me."
Petyr cocked a brow,
"So this is not a problem? My coming here?"
She shook her head,
"I am the only one who ventures above water after nightfall, when pirates are parked about the Cove, so fear not. Truly we are alone."
Petyr leaned just slightly closer to her,
"Does that mean you'll sing for me now?"
"If I sing, you will not be able to resist me. You will follow me to your death if it means I keep singing...do you understand?"
Petyr did.
"Can you go upon land? I can row ashore, and there I will not be motivated to move for all the gold in the world."
The mermaid frowned, her red brows pinching upon her forehead,
"What do you mean? I've never been resisted before..."
Petyr smiled lazily,
"I assure you, I am nothing like any man you've had before."
"Very well. I shall follow you. No tricks...or you will not see the sunrise again."
Petyr nodded slowly,
"I understand."
*
Sansa was cautious, always, but she felt a strange allure to the pirate himself, despite the fact she was not supposed to be the one facing temptation.
The man rowed ashore, and then moved from his boat almost as if underwater himself, so smooth and elegant was his movements. Sansa slipped closer and closer to the sand, feeling the telltale tingling at the base of her spine.
Her tail began to ache, and the one part of her started to become two.
Within a few moments, the transformation was complete, and she could step out of the waves, and join the pirate beside his breeched boat.
"How did you do that?"
He asked softly, eyes drinking in her newly created form, and she smiled,
"It is my best kept secret. All mermaids can be upon land...but only for a short time. It is a curse as much as a blessing."
The pirate sighed, and his hand was reaching for her, seemingly before he could stop himself, but Sansa held strong, and did not flinch away.
She wanted to see what he would do.
He touched a strand of her now drying hair, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, and stroked it slowly, thoughtfully almost.
"Beautiful...You are truly incredible. I don't think you would need a voice to bewitch a man's soul."
Sansa knew she was blushing, so she was grateful for the dim light of the moon.
"You're very kind for a pirate...."
He smiled, perhaps with a touch of sadness,
"Please...Call me Petyr. May I have your name?"
Sansa considered for a moment denying him that privilege, but she could not when he turned the full power of his green grey eyes onto her own eyes, seeming to lay her bare before him, though she already was.
Perhaps it was why he thought her beautiful.
In her normal form, she wore nothing but her hair to cover her womanly chest, and as she was on land, she was completely naked.
She'd seen his chest heave as his breathing sped up, but he'd been kind so far to not ogle her, truly.
"Yes. I am Sansa. Siren of the Starks."
Petyr licked his lips, and did let his gaze drop to study the rest of her, but only briefly.
"Sansa...you do make it difficult for me to form words proper, and not simply dissolve into a man of pure lustful intent. That is quite the accomplishment, as I consider myself above mere carnality."
Sansa shifted, closer to him, but also so that her legs concealed her new cleft between them.
She was still unaccustomed to it, for she had only been ashore twice in her life.
"Shall I sing now?"
Petyr nodded,
"Please."
*
Petyr disliked a great many things of the world, least of which how many men became slaves to women, or the pursuit thereof, but when it came to Sansa, he decided he would not mind being under her power.
Seeing her emerge from the sea utterly bare, but for what her long crimson hair covered, was more than even he could bear.
In his inebriated state, he feared for what he might say, or do, if allowed the opportunity.
He was already painfully hard inside his breeches, and he hadn't even touched her yet, but for her hair.
The moment she got closer, and opened her perfect pink lips to sing for him, he swore he might be able to come without her ever touching him.
"Sansa..."
He found himself breathing out a sigh, and she paused, looking at him with her eyes widened,
"Yes? Are you hurt?"
Her eyes had landed upon his scar, which went from his collarbone down to below his navel, which she could not see, and he nearly laughed again.
For if she was to ask to touch that, he would never deny her.
"No, not at all. That is a long healed wound. But I do fear I may expire of something if you do not allow me to kiss you. May I?"
She looked surprised for only a moment, before leaning in, letting her hair brush over his bare arm, and she smiled, her lips inches from his,
"If I truly arouse your passions with just my voice, I wonder what a kiss will do?"
Petyr didn't bother answering with words, he simply wrapped his arms around her, and drew her the rest of the way to him.
Fierce was the way he fought and did deals with other pirates or criminals, and it was usually how he acted with lovers, but for some reason, with her, he was glad to take his time, and gently work up from a slow slip and slid of lips to a more passionate press and biting sort of kiss.
Sansa, for her part, was clearly enjoying herself, and he heard a small whimper escape her lips as the kiss broke for him to catch his breath.
"Was that to your liking sweetling?"
Petyr asked, and when his hands slid down the length of her back, stopping just short of the curve of her bare buttocks, she jumped slightly.
"Yes."
She sighed, and he smirked.
"I'm grateful to hear I'm not the only one in a state fit to be fucked."
The final word seemed to confuse her, and he could have bit his tongue for being so blunt and simultaneously so reckless.
Indeed, he wanted nothing more than to take her on the sand, right there and then, but despite many reasons why he should not, the most pressing of which was she had not yet told him she would like to, he was still blessed with favor that she had not yet simply fled him.
"Is that why this is so hard against me?"
She mused, a hand suddenly slipping between their bodies, to brush over his cloth covered erection. Petyr bucked up against her palm before he could stop himself.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. But it needs nothing. I do not want you to do anything you do not wish to."
Though he could not help but picture it, in his mind’s eye, and wonder how he would compare to the salty taste of the sea, which surely she was quite familiar with.
She seemed to be curious, and perhaps she did not know much about relations between humans, and even, humans and mermaids.
"Does it feel like a fever? Threatening to set you ablaze?"
Petyr looked at her, and saw something like quiet desperation in her expression.
Was it possible he aroused her too? And as such, it was an unfamiliar feeling for her?
"Somewhat...When a man finds his pleasure, it then feels like a release, the crashing of a wave on a shore of bliss. It is difficult to explain any other way....for a maiden such as yourself, I could not attempt to describe it. It is very different for a woman to reach her climax, tis more like a slow burn, very like a fever."
Sansa pushed a hand to his chest, forcing him to lie back on the warm sand, and she leaned over him,
"Please, I want that. I want you to give me that. I'll give you what you desire and need in return."
Her hand rubbed over his achingly hard cock more insistently and Petyr stifled a groan,
"Sweetling, it is possible for us both to achieve that, but it will be much faster for me than you, especially if you continue to do what you are doing with your hand."
Perhaps it was foolish and he was reverting to boyhood, but he easily felt he could come beneath her touch without even the use of her mouth in a very few short moments.
She looked very intrigued, and immediately stopped moving her hand.
"All right…show me."
Petyr reached up first to stroke her cheek, and marveled at the way she nuzzled against his palm, before he slid his fingers down the line of her neck, to her collarbone, then into the valley between her breasts, before slowly tracing a single fingertip past her navel, halting right above the small thatch of curls that matched the hue of her hair.
“I do not wish to simply dive in, for you will need some preparation...most maidens do."
With his other hand, he again cupped her cheek, and pulled her down with the express mission of kissing her, distracting her somewhat.
For although he loved being commanded, he preferred to let a woman's pleasure take her by surprise.
*
Sansa was having a better time than she could have dreamed, she was poised over the beautiful and handsome pirate, and he had promised to show her exactly what she'd been craving for so long.
All her other sisters constantly spoke of it, sung its praises, but insisted that only men were able to grant it.
She was perplexed, constantly.
Surely the reason they existed was not to seek out men, or mermen, to give them the stuff of life?
When Petyr's hand reached the cleft between her legs, she couldn't restrain a gasp from leaving her lips, but he eagerly drank it down, kissing her all the more roughly, his tongue swiping between her lips, stealing away any further noises.
His fingers pressed inside her, one at a time, slowly opening her up, like the blooming of a flower or the unfurling of a birds wings.
She'd observed many a colorful creature upon the islands trees, but never in her life had she felt like this.
His rough and calloused hand provided excellent friction on her soft skin, and when his thumb brushed across the bud right below and in between her legs, she bucked against him.
She could feel him smiling against her mouth.
He bit her lip before breaking the kiss to speak,
"That is the pleasure center, the trigger to end the fever, and bring you the most delicious peace."
Sansa found herself begging for him to keep going, and she never begged a day in her life.
So he did.
*
As Petyr felt Sansa beginning to reach the throes of her orgasm, he kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth, a crude imitation of what he’d like to do to her, but with her other set of lips.
She whimpered against him, biting his lip suddenly as her thighs tightened around his hand, nearly forcing him to stop, but luckily he’d experienced such a thing before, and continued to work her despite the attempted halt of his movements.
He felt her flutter around his fingers, and she broke the kiss with a loud gasp, coming undone, and as she did so, she gripped his shoulder with such strength had he not had his shirt on surely she would have drawn blood.
“How was that sweetling?”
He finally asked, when he’d felt her aftershocks subsiding, and she was able to relax atop him, somewhat curled into his lap.
It only served to further stimulate his still hard cock, with her bare bottom rubbing and brushing against it, innocent as her move may have been.
Sansa’s voice was breathy and almost so soft he would have lost the words to the sea breeze had her mouth not been inches from his ear, as she rested her head on his shoulder,
“It was far beyond anything I could have dreamed. Thank you.”
“That was just a glimpse of what we could share…”
Petyr found himself murmuring back, and he swore she was smiling.
“I can’t say I’m not curious about that…but what about you?”
Her hand slipped down his chest from where she’d been gripping his shirt with a rather tight hold, and slid inside his trousers, finding his bare cock, and palming it.
Her innocent and gentle touch was enough to bring him back to full hardness, and her soft hands were like heaven on him.
“What about me?”
He asked, now feeling a bit breathless himself.
Sansa groaned and moved her hand faster, as if she was reading his mind.
“It feels so good… its hard and yet smooth and so very hot. I wonder, would you let me kiss it?”
Sansa looked at him with wide eyes, as if she’d just frightened herself with her courage for asking, and Petyr couldn’t hold back a smirk,
“You’re more than welcome to.”
So she did.
She shifted down his body, leaned up on her knees, and opened his trousers to have better access.
Her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, and though the moon was horribly dim, Petyr swore he saw stars.
She set up a decent rhythm, with her hands stroking where her mouth could not reach, and he almost felt relaxed enough to lay back on the sand, but the simple fact was, he preferred to watch her.
Her hair fell around her face like a scarlet curtain, but for the very front, which provided a gap for him to see through to where her mouth was moving up and down on him, making the most obscene noises, but driving incredible waves of pleasure throughout his body.
It wasn’t long before he was grasping her shoulder, urging her to stop.
She looked almost disappointed, letting his cock fall from her mouth with a soft pop sound,
“What did I do wrong?”
Petyr shook his head,
“Nothing, nothing at all. In fact, you’re so good, I’m dangerously close to coming myself, and I know, after the drinking I’ve done, it would more than knock me out…make me sleep.” He added, at her confusion at the last sentence.
“Oh…I don’t mind.”
She leaned back down to suck him in again, and he nearly did fall back that time, in shock.
She really did want to make his fantasies come true. So when he came, shouting aloud, despite himself, it was her name on his lips.
She crawled back up the length of his body and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his cheek.
“Sleep well my pirate.”
Indeed, his eyelids were already growing heavy, and the darkness seemed to seep in more with every passing moment.
He swore he felt her lay her head on his chest, just before he lost all coherent thought, and fell asleep.
*