Chapter Text
Marinette glided through the water with ease, chasing bright silvery fish and nudging crabs with her nose, before twisting around and speeding away. She broke the surface with a gasp, then bobbed for a moment as she took in the day’s warmth. It felt wonderful after the frigid depths, deciding her to take a few hours sunbathing on the beach.
She dived, heading toward the shore, to emerge from the breakers. Marinette lumbered up the soft sand to the rocks claiming a portion of the shore, where she shed her seal skin, spreading it out on the sand beside the rock shelf to lay on. She stretched her human limbs, luxuriating in the balmy weather, the sun sure to leave another freckle on her fair skin.
Before long, she fell asleep, lulled by the crashing waves, losing all sense of time. But it was quiet on the beach, and her colony didn’t expect her back any time soon. If they needed her, they knew where to look; Marinette was a creature of habit, and her closest friends and family knew all her favourite sunning spots.
When she awoke, the sun was high and uncomfortably hot. Marinette got to her feet with a huff, glad to be of selkie kind, as her people were not susceptible to sunburn like humans, and didn’t perish of dehydration like the merfolk did.
She stretched as she looked around, the rock pools reminding her why this beach was her favourite. With a smile, she headed toward the nearest one to crouch beside it, peering intently into its depths. Anemones clung to the sides, their tentacles swaying gently, and small starfish sat on the sandy bottom, almost totally inert. With a giggle, Marinette reached in to tickle one of the bright anemones, its tentacles attempting to wrap around her finger. She pulled her hand back to pluck a limpet from the rock wall. She placed it in the centre of the anemone as an apology for teasing it. The creature had no brain, but her mother had taught her not to be cruel to other creatures, lest she find herself in need of the ocean’s aid one day. Marinette didn’t know how an anemone could help her if she were in peril, but reasoned that she oughtn’t be cruel to another living being anyway. Of course, none of that helped the unfortunate limpet, its soft innards currently being devoured by the anemone.
Marinette shrugged off the inconsistency, before making her way to another rock pool. This one was much larger than the first, with enough room for her to sit in, and even boasting a conveniently placed rock shelf for her to use as a step. Carefully, Marinette slid her foot in, smiling at the ripples refracting the sunlight.
She sank in up to her hips, her feet cushioned by the sandy floor. Crabs scuttled out of her way, and tiny fish darted for cover, their scales reflecting the sun in bright flashes, before they concealed themselves in the myriad nooks and crannies of the pool.
With a parting wave, she climbed out of their sanctuary to head to yet another pool, one much closer to where the rocks met the sea. Waves crashed, flooding the ledge and the pool, hiding the perils that formed on the rocks. Marinette lost her balance on a slippery patch, then stood on a sharp stone as she tried to correct herself. She cried out, then limped backward, pouting at the rock pool just out of reach.
‘Are you ok?’
Marinette spun around to face an unfamiliar human. He was tall, lean, and muscular, with blond hair and green eyes, and wore only blue trousers that were torn off just below the knees. He was also holding her pelt.
Fear tore up Marinette’s throat as she hobbled as quickly as she could toward him. Her colony had warned her about humans who would keep selkies against their will. They hid the pelts, forcing the unfortunate selkie to live on land until they could find their skin and escape. However, such an undertaking could take years, as the selkie had no allies to rely upon, not even the children begotten from such a union.
Marinette was still five feet away from the man when she stopped, and pointed to her pelt with a trembling finger. She opened her mouth, but found she was unable to talk, too afraid of what he would do next.
The man looked at her fur as if he’d forgotten he still held it. ‘Oh, yeah. This is yours, right?’
He stepped forward to drape it over her shoulders. ‘I was worried you’d lost it.’
Marinette gripped her pelt tight, staring at the man in amazed disbelief.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
He smiled. ‘You’re welcome. It would be unchivalrous to allow a lady to freeze without her coat. Have a good day, mademoiselle.’
He inclined his head and turned around to walk away. Marinette stared at his back in confused wonder.
A human man had returned her pelt of his own accord. Contrary to what many believed, that did not make him her husband. That was a common misconception spread by overly romanticised human stories. But she wished he was. He was thoughtful, generous, kind, and extremely handsome. Marinette would bet her favourite woven basket that he was the most popular boy in his town.
She sighed as his figure disappeared behind a low dune. Her mother had always taught her to be wary of men who would steal her for a wife, but surely not all humans could be as bad as that. That one had been very different from Sabine’s stories, and even gave her pelt back for fear she had lost it, which if she were honest with herself, was something she would do.
Discounting the warnings, Marinette slipped her fur back on, and waded into the water. It felt like coming home.