The Selkie's Daughter

                                       CHAPTER 1



My name is Maeve, and I live in A far away place, where the sun shines through an endless cloud of mist. Where the seagulls wake you up every morning, and the ocean crashes outside your window. Life is good, but it's also hard, and many folk would think that it's impossible to live the way we do. But me and my Father have each other and the sea, and that's all we need. My Father is harsh sometimes, and his words sting like the stinging sea spray. But I love him, I love him in such a way that mere words can not and will not express it.



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On the days when the nights are cold and the sea roars outside our window, he tells me stories. Stories of mermaids drowning foolish sailors in the deep, stories of island spirits feasting in the Lir, stories about women and men who are selkies, who's skins were taken from them, but in the end they return to the sea, stories that gave me shivers down my backbone. Stories that made my heart beat in time with the roaring sea.

But he also tells me I must never go to the Lir, for a powerful witch lives there and she will eat me alive.

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I am sure that you understand, having been a child once yourself. That you can tell your children over and over again to stay away from a certain place. They may listen when they are young gullible toddlers, they may shake with fear when you tell them of the fierce winds that would strip them of their flesh on that certain mountain, or behind that certain door. But in the end, curiosity will win, and out the door they will go. They will find the key, climb the cliff, swim the sea, they will do whatever it takes to sate their curiosity. I was one such child.

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"Never go to the Lir child. There's a powerful witch who will eat you up." First I only nodded my head solemnly, promising never, ever, to go to the Lir. Then, when I was about ten the questions started.

"How far away is the Lir Father?"

"Far, child, to far for your short legs. Never go there."

"Yes Father."

Then when I was 12. "What does the witch look like Father?"

"Fair at first, but when she unveils her true form, she is quite ugly. Never go there child."

"Yes Father."

Then when I was 13.

"Have you ever been there Father?"

"Yes once."

"What was it like?"

"Horrible child, terrifying, the winds were harsh, the sea was black and the witch chased me to the summit."

"Did she eat you?" I asked laughingly.

"Don't ask such foolish questions! Of course she didn't eat me. I ran, ran like I had never ran before. I was safe."

"I would be safe then too?"

"No! Never go there child."

"...Yes Father.." I said grudgingly.

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I did not ask again for a long time. But when I was 15, I asked him again.

"Father, is the tale of the witch in the Lir really true?"

Silence, he stilled in his work and his shoulders suddenly seemed quite tense.

"Yes, never doubt it girl. Very true. NEVER EVER, go there child."

I did not respond, and I went to go catch fish.

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I wasn't a ugly child, but I wasn't comely either. My eyes were to big for my face, my nose was too big as well. My lips were chapped, and my mouth was too small. My face was small and pale, and my long dark hair was always scraggly and wild. My eyes were a startling shade of Gray, not a stormy grey, not a dull grey. "A fey grey." As my Father once put it.



  I looked nothing at all like my Father, for he had sharp blue eyes and closely cropped red hair.

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From what I'd heard, my long dead Mother didn't look anything like me either. Father never spoke of her, but the folk who occasionally passed through would talk in hushed tones of the beauty she was. Apparently she had had long gold hair and light blue eyes, and she passed away in a particularly harsh winter. I never asked them questions, I just listened. I had no wish to get any closer to these foreigners, they stank and they talked about nothing and everything. Their children stared at me, and would call me a 'earthworm' and 'vulture's daughter.'

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But by the time I was 15 I was beginning to look more like a woman and less like a girl. My hair had straightened a bit and my darting eyes had settled down. But my curiosity had not died, I was as curious as ever, much to my Father's dismay. I would ask him endless questions about the lands beyond our island, about what really lived under the sea, about the folk who passed through here, about my mother, but most of all about the Lir. His responses were always indirect and evasive, and I was getting tired of it.

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                                       CHAPTER 2

One fateful day, when the sun climbed slowly to it's spot in the sky and my Father lay asleep in his bed, I packed a small bag and snuck out. I often did this in the morning, and Father never wondered. He trusted me to never disobey him and to always return. I felt guilty that morning, and I knew why.

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Without much delay I headed toward the Lir. Things were uneventful and so far it looked like any other part of the island. I ate my bread and wondered why it was so special, it was a shady area with more mist then other places. Maybe he had been worried I would trip and fall, I wasn't sure. I continued and soon came to a tall rock, it was the only interesting thing I had seen since I had left.



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It was tall and ominous. Ravens perched along the summit. The light shone on it perfectly, for through a thin patch in the mist the sun shone and illuminated the rock in a million shades of gold. I touched it gently, I could tell that it was old and full of magic. If only I had just let my curiosity go for once. If only I had returned immediately, If only I had just gone on my way.

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Foolish girl that I was, I sat on the rock. I sat on the little ledge that it provided and finished my bread. I looked around for anything uncanny, for I wanted to know what had my Father so mortally frightened of this place. And that's when I saw her.



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Her silken hair reached down her back in a golden cascade, her skin was pale and smooth. Her face was wise and full of laughter, her footsteps light on the dew laden grass. But her eyes were what captured me, piercing and kind, cruel and wise, loving and hateful, they held me in a trance. And they were the exact shade of grey that mine were.

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She smiled, and in that moment I grew to hate that smile. I really don't know why, she was so perfect, so beautiful, but I hated that smile with a passion. Perhaps it was because it made me feel like I was nothing in her gaze, just a insignificant child gawking at her beauty. A helpless little insect she could crush just by willing it. But I hated that smile. It was her smile that gave me the courage to finally speak, for it seemed that till then my voice had shriveled into nothing.

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"Are you the witch of Lir?" I finally managed.

Her laughter was tinkling, silver bells bouncing against each other in a mocking symphony. "Is that what he told you?" She asked in a deep voice. I was surprised, her voice sounded more human then I had expected. I collected myself and took a deep breath, I stood, holding my head defiantly.

"My Father, told me that, yes."

"You are headstrong, I see that now." She frowned, "But you are also much different then I expected."

"Are you disappointed or something?" I retorted.

She smiled again, and I felt the strong urge to hit her. "Not particularly." She eyed me up and down, and then held out her hand. "Come child."

"Why should I trust you?" I should have ran then, but my feet were frozen to the ground.

"You shouldn't trust me, but you will come nevertheless." She said sternly.

My hand moved, not of my own accord. And before I knew it my hand was in hers and she was gently touching my eyes with something that made them burn.



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When I opened them again I was standing in a cavern. The walls were hung with expensive silk and I hear harps playing beyond the hallway. "Where have you taken me?" I asked, panicked.

"I've taken you home."

I wrenched my hand from hers and backed away. "This isn't my home, my home is back in the hut with my Father." She looks at me almost pityingly. "Did you really think that that man is your Father?"

"What-what do you mean?" There's a rushing noise in my ears and my head aches.

"That man is not your Father. The woman who died so many winters ago was not your Mother. I am your Mother. Welcome back Maeve."

I am backing away still, my head is spinning, my heart is racing, but there's a feeling deep down in my gut, a feeling that she's not lying to me.

"No." I whisper feebly. "No."

She touches my shoulder gently, a serious look in her gray eyes. "He lied to you Maeve. He didn't keep you away from the Lir because he wanted to keep you from being eaten. He was keeping you from me. Your Mother, he wants you all to himself Maeve. He didn't want you to be with your true family again. He is selfish."

"You don't know anything about my Father! He is a good man."

"I know more then you, apparently."

"But then, then who is my true Father?" I croak.

She shrugs delicately. "I do not know, nor do I care. Some man, somewhere down the line." She gestures carelessly. "But that no longer matters, for you, are with me now."

My tongue is suddenly thick in my mouth, and all the questions I still meant to ask her dry up. "Now." She says, wrinkling her nose with distaste. "Let's get you cleaned up."



                                       1 month later          #

I want for nothing. I sleep in a lily white bed each night and I am dressed in the lightest silk. I eat food like none I have ever tasted with my Mother and her consorts. But, my life is empty. Hollow as the loving words my Mother greets me with each morning. I feel trapped, captive, not like the free little girl I once was running free on the moors.



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I realize as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, that I want my old life back. I want to gut fish with my Father again, I want him to tell me tall tales as the ocean roars outside our window. But every time I think of leaving something distracts me. The best part about this life is the horses. Beautiful horses with long flowing manes, horses that will run and run without stopping until you command it.



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                                       CHAPTER 3

One of the problems that nags at my brain each night, is that fact that I don't even know who my Mother is. I know that she is of the fey, but she tells me nothing more then that. Every time I ask her she brushes me off. I don't even know how the man I have ceased calling Father came to own me. I am a pretty little ignorant statue she puts in different parts of the tower to please her.

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3 months later

I have strange dreams sometimes, almost as if...I had a old life before this. A man with closely cropped red hair, bright blue eyes, and a kind smile. I always wake with a strange sense of longing, who is this man? When I tell my Mother of these dreams she frowns, and gives me another dose of the honey drink she gives me every morning.

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"Do you miss your old life?" One of the stable boys I have come to call friend, asks me strange questions like this from time to time.

I twist my hands round and round. "I don't know what you mean Brae."

He frowns. "I just don't like how the Queen treats you. Like a pet, almost like she doesn't...love you."

"Don't be silly!" I admonish him. "She's my Mother, of course she loves me."

But later as I stare out the window of my room, I realize how true the words he said were. The strange thing is, I feel that I am living in a dream. Nothing feels real, I feel like a puppet. Like every time I speak someone else is speaking for me. Like my actions aren't my own, I feel muffled, like I am drugged all of the time. And I don't know why.

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                                       Brae's P.O.V.

I don't know what to do. I watch my Queen give Maeve a cup of honey colored drink every night and every morning, and I know that that is what is keeping her sedated. But what do I do? If I switch the drinks and the Queen finds out, my head will be added to her collection in the briar patch. But, this is wrong. I don't like this. I told her that I thought the Queen treated her like a pet the other day, but she laughed me off. I know that those weren't her words, she knows deep inside that this isn't who she wants to be.



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We were friends when we were young, before her Mother gave her away. We would play games with sticks and chase each other through the hallway. But she doesn't remember, she thinks of me only as the nice stable boy. I need to make her remember again. For her. Her life will be wasted away if she lives here much longer.



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2 months later    Maeve's P.O.V.

I feel more awake this morning, like part of my brain is waking up. The drink she gave me this evening seemed less sweet, but it did wake me up more. Colors are more vibrant and I think easier.

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I was watching Brae the day I started to remember again, I suddenly saw flashbacks. Me and Brae running through the hallway, me and Brae playing with twigs, me and Brae laughing as we hung upside down from the railing. I feel faint, dizzy. I run after him and grab his arm, "I remember." I whisper. He smiles at me sadly. "I know. I switched the drinks. I've been doing so for 2 months, it took that long for you to even remember me again."

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't tell you anymore Maeve."

"No! Tell me everything."

"Maeve..."

"Please Brae, everyone else won't tell me the truth, I know that you will."

"Promise not to tell the Queen I told you this?"

"I promise." 

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Once upon a time there was a Queen.  She was not evil, but she was quite selfish. She was beautiful and all who cast eyes upon her, were soon under a trance. She was part of a race of fey who had migrated to this island many years ago. They came from a faraway land no one had ever heard of, they came with the Romans. They were as heartless and greedy as the romans, in fact they had bred with them many a time. When they came to this island they cast almost all of the native folk out. They then made themselves a empire Alexander the Great would have been envious of. But no mortal could see them unless they bid it, and they were unheard of for a long, long, time.





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In time the Queen bore a child with hair as black as a raven's wing, and eyes as grey as her own. She had had the child with one of the folk native to here. A selkie man, no one knows why she lay with his kind. No one knows why she was dancing by the sea that night.



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But we do know that at first she cared not for the child, the child was a nuisance. Laughing every night, talking all day, begging for honey, stealing the wine, and worst of all the child liked salt. As we all know fairies are allergic to salt, but her selkie genes overrode the fairy ones. And she was constantly sneaking off to the bay to bathe her fingers in salt. She was also ugly in the Queen's eyes, no flowing golden hair, no sweet manners, no rosy skin, and she always smelled like salt.



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  As the girl grew older she was more of a nuisance. Always dirty and always getting lost. Finally the Queen's patience wore too thin. The child was four years old when she summoned a common man who lived on the moor a couple miles from the Lir.

"Take this child." The Queen said to him. "I know you have wanted one of your own since your dear wife died. Take this child and raise her as your own.

But on her 13th birthday, bring her back to me." The man promised to do her bidding, and he trembled with fear as he took the fey child from the Queen's arms and carried her home.



But his fear soon turned to love, and he raised the child as his own. The child, christened Maeve, had forgotten her previous life and soon came to believe that her life with the man was all she had ever had.



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He raised her as well as he could and forbid her to ever go to the Lir. But the Queen bided her time, and she waited. For she knew that the girl would be curious, and curiosity would win in the end. It did. The Queen drugged the girl, thus making her unable to think for herself or remember anything. Gradually all memory of all her past life faded away, till she even forgot her Father.





                                       



















                                       CHAPTER 4

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I stare at him, utterly perplexed. "I understand that this story is about me Brae, but who is this man you claim is my...Father?"

He sighs. But does not speak any more of my history. Two days later, I wake up. And I understand. "Father." I whisper softly. My Mother comes in bearing another drink, she sets on the table in front of me then leaves. I take the drink, and I pour it out the window, watching as the golden substance spills onto the ground.



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I get my bag and I change out of the stupid silks. I open the door and I run down the stairs to where Brae is sleeping. "Thank you." I whisper. Then I run.

"Maeve!" A eerie voice calls me as I run as fast as I can across the moors. "Maeve!" I stop and turn, my Mother is standing right behind me, her eyes are soft and pleading and she holds out her deceiving hand.

"Why are you leaving me?"

"You lied to me! About everything! If you have to use magic to keep me, you don't really have me.  Now let me go."

"Your Father lied to you to!"

"Not as much as you did, and he lied to keep me safe!"

"I can give you anything!"

"No, you can give me a hollow empty life, you can give me drugged honey, you can give me a lie. I don't want that."

"Then." She says softly. "I will have to use force to make you stay!" She reaches for me, and magic glows in the palm of her hand. But I turn and flee once more. I run until my breathing is ragged, and my heart is pounding, but she still is right behind me. Her cold laughter ringing in my ears.

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I come to a dead end, a cliff edge jutting out into the sea. "I have you now, Daughter. Now come home like a good girl."

I shake my head and back away. "Anything but that life." I whisper. Then, dropping my bag I run to the edge of the cliff, and I throw myself into the raging sea below. I hear her scream behind me.



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That day I still remember with a aching heart. I pulled myself out of the sea, and I still don't know how I did it. Maybe my Father and his selkies saved me, or maybe it was pure luck. I like to think it was the selkies. Dripping and cold I stumbled back to our hut, but it was broken down, brambles grew around it and the sky was stormy. I was suddenly utterly terrified. I opened the creaking door that was half rotted at the hinges and stepped inside. "Father?" I called with a quavering voice. But there was no answer. And when I opened the door to his room I gasped at what I saw.

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An old, old, man lay on my Father's bed. His hair was white and his face was a network of wrinkles. "Maeve." He croaked. "You came back."

"Father. No. No." I whispered. "How can this be? I was only gone half a year."

"Time if different there child." He whispered. "Here you were gone many, many, years. I kept watch for you, I even went to the Lir, calling and calling for you."

I start sobbing, and briefly realize that I have never cried before. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gone, I was to curious."

"No, no, I should have told you the truth. I shouldn't have kept it from you." He said gently, and he touched my hand with his wrinkled one. "I'm just glad I got to see you one last time."

"No," I say firmly. "You aren't going to die!"

He shakes his head gently. "I have lived long enough."

"But I wasn't even here, all those years wasted." I sob. "Not wasted Maeve, you got to be with your mother and learn what it was like to be royalty, you learned many things in your time away from me. Cherish those lessons."

"I love you." I whisper.

"I love you too." His eyes close, and he breathes no more. My sobs shook the whole hut that day.

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I'm an old woman now, and looking back I realize that he was right. I did learn a lot in my time with my Mother. I learned that we, fey and human, take things for granted. My Mother took her life for granted, the silks, the riches, the men, anything she wanted at her feet. And I could have gone back after my Father died,  I could have had everything I wanted at my feet, I could have been young forever, but I didn't. It's better to have a shorter life that is full filled and full of joys and sorrows, then to have a everlasting life that is hollow and empty.

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I rebuilt the hut, and I returned to my old lifestyle. I appreciated every fish I caught, every bit of food I managed to get into my rusty pot. And soon the island started attracting visitors. They didn't call me 'vulture's daughter' anymore, now they respected me. I fixed their ailments and in turn they gave me food and company.

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I married a sailor. I told him the truth about me and my life, he married me anyway, said it had always been his dream to marry a selkie's daughter. We had two strange children, both with gray eyes and smooth skin. One had golden hair and the other had hair as black as a raven's wing. I told them the truth, and if they ever visit the Lir they'll know what they'll be agreeing too, the life they'll be signing up for.  I don't know whether they went there of not, they're gone now. And my husband is long dead. My life is good, but it's fading away by the minute. And as I listen to the gulls crying by the  bay I smile to myself. And with my ebbing strength I stand and I go down to the sea. And I let go finally, and fall down into the arms of the selkies.

"Welcome home Daughter, welcome home."



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