Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 2014, Duchy of Ships

My best friend is crying into my shoulder like the world is ending, and I’m late. Usually, being late for a ship due to set sail would mean getting left behind, but since its only purpose is to carry me, I’m not worried about that part.

She’s been crying for several minutes, my arm curled around her in what little comfort I can offer, but her tears are slowing, the well of them drying up. She sobs, her breathing heavy and hollow, and mumbles, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” I say gently.

“I always knew they’d pick Ronan,” she whispers. “But there was always a chance I could inherit from someone else, maybe my auntie. Maybe he’d… Maybe he’d die in a stupid accident. I know that’s a horrible thing to imagine and I love my brother, I’d never wish it on him, but… “

“I get it,” I say, though I don’t really. I remember what it was like, before my magic had finally come in. How desperate I’d been to be properly a part of Faerie, of the Undersea. I’d been born to shift shapes and my body knew that, even when my magic hadn’t. I’d hoped Rhona would be the one to inherit, but I hadn’t understood what the Selkies were then. 

“There aren’t going to be any more Selkies now, ever. Either I spend the rest of my life here, reminded of what I can’t have all the time, or I’ll have to move to the human world. I’ve hardly been on land, I don’t know how their world works!” She pulls away from me, an edge of anger to her grief. “Why is the sea-witch doing this to us? Why now?”

“She’s fixing what’s broken.” 

“The Selkies aren’t broken,” she frowns. 

I bite my lip. “Yes, you are. Power is meant to be passed down from mother to daughter, father to son.” 

“But we’re skinshifters, not shapeshifters. Like the ravenmaids, the swanmays.” 

“And they’re born with skins, they still inherit their parents’ magic.” 

“What?” Rhona stares at me. “But then… why not us?” 

I swallow, trying to think of a way to explain without telling stories that I’m not meant to tell. “Because the way the Selkies were born was… Wrong. The Convocation of Consequences was always meant to happen, it needs to.”

Rhona looks away, but not before I see hurt in her eyes. “How can you know more about my own people than me? How could you not have told me?”

I know what it’s like to have the truth of your own blood kept from you and feel a rush of guilt for doing the same to my friend. “Mother told me, but she said I couldn’t tell anyone else. It’s against the rules the sea-witch set.” 

“You’ve never met a rule you wouldn’t bend or break,” she says, still stung. “Will you tell me now?” 

I bounce my leg, torn between loyalties. “I’m sorry. I made a promise, but you’ll find out soon enough. And then maybe you’ll see there’s a silver lining to being passed over.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You get to stay innocent.”

Rhona looks at me, bewildered. “Elsie, you’re scaring me.” 

“It’s a scary sort of story.” She won’t stop looking at me, eyes shining with concern and confusion, and I can’t help myself. “When people wear ordinary fur, where does it come from?” 

“Animals?” she ventures.

“Dead animals,” I nod. “Where might magic skins come from?” 

“Dead fae animals?"

I stare at her. 

She looks away first. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Rhona.” I stand up. I haven’t told her everything, but I’ve broken my promise in spirit and there’s nothing more I can give her. “But you were born human. If you want to be fae, there’s a cost and someone had to pay it.” 

I haven’t helped my friend in her hour of need. I’ve only made her more confused and upset than before, and when she knows the truth about the Roane, I don’t know if our friendship will ever be the same again. 

“Elsie!” Mom scowls at my approach. “You were meant to set sail half an hour ago!”

I stop in front of her, my head lowered. “Rhona got passed over,” I say quietly. “She needed me.”

“Oh.” Mom's silent for a moment. There’s nothing she can say that will fix the reality of my best friend being shut off from Faerie forever. “Okay, I won’t make you walk the plank.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “How is that even a punishment when I can just turn into an otter?” 

“I could turn you into a turtle if you prefer.” She casts a wary look at the horizon. “They’ll be here soon, skedaddle.”

I hug her goodbye before jumping onto the gangway. Maybe I’m too old for that, but I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve left the Duchy. It’ll be weird to be away for so long.

“Elsie,” she says. “Promise not to get up to any mischief?” 

I blink at her innocently. “What could I possibly get up to on a ship that isn’t even docking anywhere?”

“You’ve accomplished getting into trouble on a stationary shipwreck,” she says, unaffected. “No getting bored and climbing the masts. No taking unnecessary risks. No going off to look for a raft of sea otters or something.” 

“Are there otters nearby?” 

She glares at me. 

I smile and salute her. “I meant roger that, Captain. I’ll be good.”

“Remember, if you keep to that, I’ll take you to Atlantis.” 

My grin brightens and I wave a final goodbye before walking onto the ship. 

My nightmare doesn’t have the grace to be subtle. I dream of people wearing otter skins, the fluffy brown fur dark against their skin. I dream of swimming away, hunted through the deep, and just as something is about to catch my flipper, I jolt awake. 

I lie in my bed, still sleep-dazed, feeling the gentle rocking motion of the ship which could so easily soothe me back to sleep if I let it, but my thoughts race wild and wicked. It shouldn’t rattle me. Any self-respecting dream ought to hide fear through a layer of symbolism at least. 

Even awake, my mind won’t move on from skins. From what I understand, they won’t exist anymore when I return. The Selkies are possessive of them and no matter that I’ve been Rhona’s friend since we were tiny, I’m still an outsider there.

But the skins are the only thing left of my brothers and sisters, and Annie won’t tell me anything about them because it hurts her too much to speak of them. I had brothers and sisters, and they all had names and lives, loves and hates and dreams, things they did and things they could have done.

They’re all long gone, and I want to remember them, but I can’t because I never knew them, only the idea of them, whispers lost to the wind. I wish I could meet one of the few Roane that survived the massacre, if any of them are still alive, to ask them what we lost.

I slip out of my cabin. It’s still not quite sunrise, I couldn’t have been asleep for long. I’d thought my dreams would be the one place I couldn’t dwell on what I’m missing.

What if one of the real Roane comes to the Convocation? What if I miss them? I know Annie doesn’t want me there, but the Roane are my family. Mom says the new Roane will be too.

I find myself drawn to the stern. I hold onto the edge of the ship, pretending I don’t know what my feet are thinking. 

The Summerlands sea stretches out before me, glistening in the light, the Duchy of Ships out of sight and far away. I shouldn’t be here. I should be there to see the Roane reborn. 

I don’t want to disobey both my mothers about something so important. This isn’t childish antics, they would be angry with me, disappointed. I’m grown up enough to understand that they’re not sending me away to be cruel, they just want to keep me safe. And I would very much like a fieldtrip to Atlantis.

But Annie can be overprotective. All I need to do is avoid attracting the attention of one changeling lady. I’m capable of that! 

I cast a glance behind me. None of the crew are in sight. They’ll notice I’m gone eventually and head back to the Duchy to tell on me. But by that point, I’ll have already been there for a while, I’ll have proved I can stay out of sight. I might be able to convince Annie to let me stay. 

I clamber onto the stern, staring down at the churning waters as I prepare to disobey the express orders of two Firstborn. But I want to witness the end of the Selkies and the restoration of the Roane more than I want to be an obedient daughter, so I dive into the sea, heading for home.