Chapter Text
art by sorrcha.tumblr.com
July, 2005.
The Duchy of Ships has always been my home. People say it’s unique and strange, cos we’re out at sea but not Undersea. Mom says what’s strange is that there aren’t other places like it, because we’ve always had air-breathers and they’ve always earned their place. And Mom’s never been wrong before.
I hope she doesn’t say that just cos I’m an air-breather.
My mom is the most beautiful lady in the world. Her eyes are the same intricate blue as the Summerlands sea and her hair runs long and black, glimmering with rainbow echoes. Her skin is so pale you’d think the sun had never touched it and it glitters with small pearlescent scales. Plus, she dresses as cool as any storybook pirate.
I’m a shadow of her glory. I don’t even look like her, not really. I’ve got scruffy brown hair that never lies neatly (I keep dodging hair brushes), I tan and burn in the sun, and my eyes are green like the kelp, not blue like the waves. I guess I take after my dad, but I never knew him.
I don’t mind the rest of it, not really. There’s nothing wrong with my hair or my eyes or my face. But I hate my dad for what he couldn’t give me: magic enough to be a sea-dweller, not an air-breather. I’ve been waiting all my life for my magic to come in strong enough to shift my shape, but it would have come in years ago if it were meant to be.
At least I’m not alone. Like most days, I’m leading my gang about our false beach, an expanse of sand hanging five-feet above the water.
We’re all air-breathers- three changelings and two Selkiekin, but I get to be the leader because I make up all the best games and my mom’s the Captain.
Right now, the game is diving off our tall beach and Rhona isn’t sure about playing.
“I’m not ready to dive,” she protests. “Not from up here, it’s too high!”
“Don’t be a baby,” says Ronan. “Watch me.”
He turns around, walking to the edge of the sand. He presses his hands together and dives off in an arc, mirroring the shape of a dolphin. He lands with a splash and I peer over, watching small bubbles play on the empty surface, waiting for him to recover and break through. I’m the leader, so I look out for safety. Ronan has no gills, his skin has no charms, so if he can’t get back up by himself, he’ll drown.
He surfaces quickly, taking a gasping breath before letting out a bark of laughter. He swims to the side and climbs his way back up to us on the rope ladder. When he finally clambers over the side, he’s dripping wet and grinning. “See? If I can do it, so can you.”
Ronan and Rhona are twins. They look a lot alike, both with coppery brown hair cut in a pageboy style, pale skin, ordinary brown eyes, and identical heights. They’re Selkiekin and when you get down to it, Selkiekin is just a nicer way of saying human. They’re people who want to be Selkies because their parents are, but it doesn’t pass down like that for some reason. They have to be given a skin instead.
Their parents weren’t thrilled to get twins. They were a selkie-human pair with only one skin to pass on, so they’d wanted one kid to pass it to. They’d never expected to have two, to have to choose. I think that’s why they named them so similarly and give them the same hair cuts and the same clothes, like they’re in denial about them being separate people.
Rhona doesn’t look convinced. She’s shy and fearful and I know she doesn’t like being the centre of attention like this.
“We’ve all done it,” Aila wheedles, adding to the pressure. She’s the most beautiful of us, with sleek golden hair, sea-blue eyes, and a voice that you can’t help but love to listen to. “We’ve all done it lots and nothing bad’s happened.”
Rhona steps forward to the edge suddenly and I frown at Aila. She’s a Siren changeling and she’s a shadow of her mother too. She can’t take over people’s hearts and minds, but sometimes she’s suspiciously convincing.
“Only do it if you want to, Rhona,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We dive off cos it’s fun, not cos it’s scary.”
She shoots me a grateful look. “It… It looks fun, it does! But I’m not a very strong swimmer.”
“Better to stay dry than dash yourself on the rocks,” nods Niall, the last member of our group, a Sea Wight changeling with dark curly hair and dark eyes. He’s quiet too, but not because he’s ever scared to speak, he doesn’t often have something to say. Sea Wight are just like that I think, their emotions move slowly.
“Your turn then, Aila.”
“Nah,” she says to me. “I’m bored now.”
“Me too,” says Ronan, looking out to sea with a sigh. “I bet they’re finding all sorts of treasure.”
They are the sea-dwelling kids. There’s a gang of them too, all about our age, and they discovered a shipwreck yesterday, an old one, an answer to some ancient tale of a ship gone astray. They went off this morning to uncover all its secrets.
“If there’s treasure, maybe they’ll share the spoils,” I suggest, trying to lift their spirits.
Ronan snorts. “Good one.”
“Anyhow, the fun is in the finding,” says Aila. “It’s never not going to suck, being an air-breather here.”
“It’s better than being on the shore,” Rhona says, with quiet conviction.
“I’ve never been on shore,” I say. “What’s it like?”
“Boring,” shrugs Ronan. “You’d hate cities.”
“Your people built them,” says Niall. “You’re well adapted to them, if you’d give them a chance.”
“What do you mean?” he frowns.
“You’re human. You don’t actually need the sea. You just think you do.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, trying to keep the peace.
“Yeah, you know nothing about what it’s like to be a Selkie!”
“Neither do you,” he shrugs.
Ronan stiffens, about to pounce on Niall and turn this into a fight of fists.
“Guys,” I say, hastily pushing in between them. Mom can stop fights with a raise of her eyebrows, but I have to try a bit harder. “Knock it off. We’re all useless air-breathers.”
“Isn’t it strange, though?” Aila hums.
“What?”
“It doesn’t seem right that the Captain’s daughter is no different to me and Niall.”
That is enough to fully distract them from their fight and they turn to look at us, but I’m not sure it’s worth it. “I’m still a changeling,” I say defensively.
“But she’s the Captain.” Aila lowers her voice. “I mean, she’s not Merrow. She’s–”
“–Shut up about my mom,” I huff, folding my arms.
“I’m just saying,” she says, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Maybe don’t give up on yourself yet. I’ve read stories where someone’s full magic only comes in when they need it to survive.”
“You’re saying I’ve just not been trying hard enough?” I glare at her, raising myself to my full height. Now I’m the one at risk of disturbing the peace.
“Elsie,” she says, her voice suddenly silkily smooth and so pretty to listen to. “Don’t get mad at me. I’m just trying to help.”
My anger melts away just as quickly as it had come and I blink, glancing to the open blue at our side. Maybe she has a point.
I’m the daughter of Amphitrite, keeper of the Duchy of Ships, protector of these waters, the Firstborn daughter of Titania and Oberon. The water should welcome me, even with human blood muddying my pool.
I walk to the edge, the old wood creaking underfoot.
“What are you doing?” asks Rhona, sweetly nervous.
“I’m going to test the theory.”
“Be careful,” says Aila and when I look back at her, she looks suddenly concerned. “I’ll be in big trouble if you drown.”
I grin. “The sea would never.”
And I dive off the edge.
Falling through the air is always a disconcerting feeling, but soon enough the sea swallows me and I welcome it, embracing stillness instead of fighting my way to air.
I float to the surface, on my back in a gentle repose, and see my friends peering down, fear on their faraway faces. I wave and close my eyes, keeping to my stillness.
The current carries me away, the choppy waves rocking my body. A sudden movement jolts my eyes open in time to see a wave towering over me. It pummels me with a force harder than any Merrow’s fist and I’m suddenly flailing in the water, choking on mouthfuls of it.
The current drags me along and even though I try to swim now, every direction seems to be the wrong one, the waves overpowering me as I take another breath full of water. I struggle harder in my panic, reduced to fruitlessly splashing with my limbs–
No.
The sea will not deny me. These are Mom’s waters, they won’t hurt me. I was born for the sea.
The scent of hot sand and sea air rises around me, sudden and sharp, and the whole world shifts and blurs out of true.
I float to the surface again, but something is different. Everything is different. The world is so much bigger, or I’m so much smaller. The sounds and smells of the sea are louder and stronger, everything bright and vivid. The water tugs gently at my fur, robbed of its chill– my fur?
I look with my eyes and with my whiskers and find what should have been obvious: I’m in some kind of furry shape, with paws and a tail. A shape born for the sea.
I try to laugh and startle at the noise that comes out- a strange chittering.
As if in response, I hear a faraway shout loud and clear. “Elspeth!”
Though I dearly want to spend the whole day swimming now, testing my new shape, meeting the ocean as an equal for the first time, I owe it to my friends to put them at ease. I let new instincts take over, my legs— my flippers– pushing me in the right direction while I stay on my back. I roll over a few times and I have no idea why, but the motion feels right.
I quickly reach the place where I’d dived in. Scaling the rope ladder is more difficult in this form, but there are plenty of other outcroppings that help ease my way, and soon I’m on our false beach, chittering excitedly.
My friends surround me, talking loudly and all at once so I can barely make out the individual words. They sweep me off the ground, carrying me between them with speed, and the sensation is so novel that I let it happen without complaint, chattering all the while with my strange new sounds.
I don’t even notice where we’re going until they present me, sprawling me onto the ground in front of my mom with elated cries of “Captain! Captain!”
She raises an eyebrow, appraising us all with wry amusement. “Yeah? If you want a pet, ask your parents.”
I pull on the feeling I’d had when the world shifted and my magic rises dutifully. I rise with it, my legs growing and growing until I’m a gangly child again.
There’s no surprise in her eyes- she knew it was me all along. A grin splits her face and she claps me on the back, laughing. “Took you long enough, kid.”