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“We’re almost there-”
“Dad-”
“Just a bit further, my Little Ladle.”
“Daddy-” She hiccups on a sob, one hand clinging tight to her doll, the other reaching up to grab at her father’s face, his beard, anything to get his attention, “Daddy stop, you’re hurting!”
“Just a bit of a turned ankle,” he says, he lies, she can tell that it’s broken, and his pants are torn and burned and there’s blood, but he won’t stop running, carrying her away from where a dozen of her uncles are laying in an unconscious heap. “You’re going to make it, Marmalade.”
He stopped saying ‘we’ after the first two fights.
Now it’s just ‘you’, you’re going to make it, but she doesn’t want to, not if her father isn’t coming too. “Please!”
“I promise,” he pants, darting past a caramelized boulder that roars and tries to grab them. Its candy arms miss, but the noise will draw more attention, bring down the next group of furious Charlottes on their heads, and her father can’t handle another fight but Marmalade is too weak to help- “Here, here!”
A short hill, going up to the edge of a cliff, and past it- the sea. Glittering ocean waves, the stuff dreams are made of, the key to all of her father’s hopes for escape. They’ve made it. They made it.
“Oi, Blackleg!”
No
“You can’t keep this up forever!”
No, not when they’re so close-
Marmalade hiccups again, clutching her doll and father both, terrified of what’s going to happen next. They’ll kill him, she knows they’ll kill him and they’ll take her back to the Chateau, and her mother will be furious and Grandmama worse than furious, Grandmama will be hungry-
But she’s wrong.
She’s horribly, horribly wrong.
Because her father keeps going, right up to the edge of the cliff, they can hear the waves crashing against the rocks below, and he-
“There!”
He lifts her higher
“I see them!”
He kisses her cheek
“Come on, I can’t wait to finally take this bastard down-!”
-and Marmalade’s father
throws her
into
the sea
She’s falling
Falling
Oh
And screaming too
“DADDYYYYY-!”
Water surges
Arms catch her
“Hey, little one!”
There’s an odd noise, something settling around Marmalade’s head, and then she’s underwater, she can feel it against her skin and dress and she tries to hold her breath-
But. She doesn’t need to? She can- she can breathe. It’s a bubble, around her head. She can breathe just fine.
“You’re okay,” that big voice says, and Marmalade looks up, sees a woman’s face with freckles and pointy teeth. “Hi, sweetness, I’m your Auntie Praline! I’m gonna get you out of here safe and sound, alright? My husband and his crew aren’t too far-”
No, no not without- “DADDY,” Marmalade wails, squirming, kicking, she needs to get loose she needs to go back she needs- she needs-
“Oh- oh I’m so sorry, little one- I'm just supposed to pick up you, I’m sorry-” The mermaid doesn’t say anything else, just propels them into the darker waters with strong sweeps of her tail, and Marmalade doesn’t stop crying until she passes out.
And what would mon cherie like for her bedtime story tonight, hm? A tale about the Sunshine Captain? The Tangerine Fairy or the Moss Knight?
Fish Wizard!
Tch, I should have known. Alright, budge up, let’s get comfortable here. Now then. A long, looong time ago, there was a fearsome pirate known as Red-Leg, who fought with his feet, and could smash an enemy ship clean in half with one kick! Now he was a mean old man, who thought he’d be fighting until the day he died, searching for his dream-
The All Blue!
Are you telling this story or am I?
Sorry, Daddy.
Hm. No harm done, Little Ladle. But then! One day, Red-Leg lost his ship and his crew in a terrible storm, and found himself alone on a miserable bit of rock, with only a single sad eggplant to eat. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to survive on, waiting for rescue. But while he sat and stared at this eggplant and wondered what to do-
The fish! The magic fish!
Ah ah, it wasn’t magic yet. But Red-Leg saw the fish, and got an idea. It took a big sacrifice on his part, his blood and flesh along with the eggplant, but he made a magic spell, and threw it into the water for the fish to eat. And do you know what happened then?
The fish got BIG, and it turned into a SHIP, and, and-
And when Red-Leg climbed aboard, he decided to stop being a pirate, and open a restaurant instead, to make sure no one he met ever went hungry again.
Yeah!
And someday, Little Ladle, you and I will go find that old wizard, and his floating fish restaurant, and nothing scary will ever try to hurt us again, hm? How’s that sound?
Sounds- *yawn* -perfect, Daddy.
I thought it might.
When Marmalade wakes up, there’s a face leaning over her. A young face, even if it is big. And it smiles, once their eyes meet. “Hey! You’re finally up! Papa was starting to get worried, you being asleep so long.”
Papa.
Dad.
Daddy.
“Uh oh- hey, don’t cry! You’re safe! Nobody saw Mom sneak you away under the water, you’re safe here! It’s okay-”
“No it’s n-not,” Marmalade insists, rolling away on the big bed, grabbing, grabbing for- where- where is-
“Oh, here!” Soft white cloth is shoved in front of her eyes, and Marmalade grabs on before squeezing all three of them shut, burying her face into her doll and sobbing. A big hand carefully presses against her shoulder blades, and starts rubbing up and down, like- like Daddy would-
Marmalade cries until she’s too empty for anything else.
After she finally falls quiet, the tears and snot drying on her face, there’s the quiet sound of something big sliding against wood, and the face comes back into view. It belongs to a large girl, with long pink hair braided over the top of her head and down behind her neck. She must be a mermaid; Marmalade catches a glimpse of a grey and white fin.
Arms folded on the opposite edge of the bed, the girl sinks down so her face is half hidden, nose hooked over one forearm and eyes peering at Marmalade. “...I like your doll. Is it a chef?”
Marmalade sniffs. Reluctantly pushes the toy away, so the other girl can see all of it: the rumpled hat, the braided mustache, the one leg that’s red from the knee down. “Yeah. And a wizard. My- my dad said so.”
“Cool.” After a moment, one of those big hands reaches out. “I’m Bayline. I think we’re cousins. Do you want to be friends?”
Another sniff. She reaches back. “Sure. I’m- Marmalade.”
“Pretty! Can I call you Marm? For short?”
“Sure.” Not Ladle. Never again, Little Ladle.
Marmalade hugs her doll tight as one more tear slips free from her third eye.
Daddy? What’s going on?
Time to go, my Little Ladle. Time to be free.