Chapter Text
On the day Melly loses everything she’s ever known, clouds darken the sky. The wind is still quiet, but every so slowly picking up speed. The waves are higher and rougher than they usually are at this hour. A storm is on its way. No sensible man who knows anything about the sea would approach it until the rain has come and gone.
It is the perfect day for her to walk along the shore.
The first few times she had dared to take off her sealskin, she had only stayed in her human form for a few minutes before darting back to retrieve her precious coat, terrified that it would be discovered and taken. But now that she is older and has traveled to many different lands, her confidence has grown. She has never properly encountered a human, and she never plans to. She has observed them from a distance, of course, heard them talk and watched with amusement as they floundered indelicately in the water, their attempts at swimming ridiculous in comparison to the graceful underwater dance of Melly and her people. But to actually approach them would be reckless. Every denizen of the sea knows that the land-dwellers cannot be trusted.
So she waits until the sun has set or the weather has become unpleasant to them, as it is today.
Stepping out of her coat is not as delicate a process as one might expect. It’s not painful or strange—it is as natural to selkies as taking off a garment would be to a human. Pale gray fur slides off her shoulders to reveal alabaster skin, the darker markings around her head become long chestnut hair, and her eyes flutter and fill with tears as they adjust to no longer being submerged.
She shivers when the chill of the air hits her human skin, so different from the protective warmth of her thicker, furred coat. She wraps her arms around herself and inhales deeply, closing her eyes and just letting herself take in the saltiness in the air, the calls of the gulls as they circle lazily overhead, the strange and fascinating sounds and scents and experiences that can only be found on land.
She nestles her coat carefully between two wave-smoothed rocks, just above where the water is beginning to recede as a mark of low tide arriving soon. She makes sure it’s secure before turning away and meandering down the shoreline.
Though her senses are somewhat dulled compared to her seal form, Melly enjoys the unique sensations that come with being human. She can dig her toes into the sand and feel every grain, can speak aloud and marvel at the lilting tone of her own voice.
The sky may be getting darker by the minute, but it makes no difference to her. After she has had her fill of the world above she will don her coat and dive down to where she will be safe from the lashings of rain and thunder. For now, though, she is happy to splash through the shallows and wave to the birds. She would never call humanity as a whole beautiful, but she can admit that they are able to enjoy many pleasures most other creatures couldn’t even dream of.
Melly crouches down in order to admire a conch shell that has washed up onto shore. It is perfectly intact, its spire unbroken, with a beautiful swirl pattern. She has heard that the humans have a myth that one can hear the ocean if they press a conch to their ear. It’s interesting, the creativeness with which they interpret the gifts of the sea.
It’s then that she feels a lightning strike of pain down her spine.
No.
Melly leaps to her feet, turning towards where she had left her skin for safekeeping. What she sees fills her heart with horror.
A man is standing by the rocks, and her coat is in his hands.
Why he is out here in such weather, Melly can’t even begin to guess, but that isn’t what’s important. What matters is that he is here and he has her coat.
The sand makes it difficult to run and she nearly falls in her haste, but she refuses to slow down until she is close enough to stand face to face with the man. She glares up at him fiercely, trying not to shiver as his ice blue eyes rake over her body greedily.
“That doesn’t belong to you,” she says, her words strained as her lungs attempt to recover from her desperate sprint.
“Oh?” The man looks down at the coat, then back to her. “So it’s yours?”
“Give it back,” she hisses.
The man’s lips curl into a cruel grin. “No,” he says, mockingly thoughtful. “I don’t think I will. I’ve never seen a selkie before, but I’ve heard the stories. I’ve heard they’re the most beautiful women in the world. I’ve heard that if you take one as a wife, you’ll be blessed with fortune.”
Melly is well aware of the stories men tell of her people. She is also aware of the damage they have done. Selkies have their own stories; tales of their sea sisters trapped on land, their coats hidden away. Doomed to spend the rest of their lives in a miserable marriage to thoughtless humans, to never return home.
Melly had listened, and swore to herself that it would never happen to her.
The sight of him, caressing her coat like some sort of prize, is enough to make bile rise in her throat.
“Give it back or you will wish you had,” she says, hoping it sounds like a warning and not the plea it truly is.
“Why?” The man tilts his head. “You’ll curse me? Drown me? How will you do that?”
Melly remains silent.
“You can’t hurt me,” the man says. “Can you? Because I have this. It’s mine now, which means you are too.”
“Never,” she snarls.
“Then take it from me,” he replies. “If you don’t want to be my wife, steal your skin back.”
But she cannot. Once a human steals a selkie’s coat, only they can choose to relinquish it. A selkie cannot act against their master. The laws of their existence are cruel, but old as time. And though Melly already knows this, it does not stop her from trying. She wills with all her might for her feet to move forward and her hands to reach out, but they do not listen, because the man before her holds her coat, and therefore her soul.
“I thought so,” he says after a moment of waiting. “You’ll make a beautiful wife, you know.”
“I would be a difficult one,” she spits.
The man shrugs. “Even a wild animal can be tamed with enough time.”
The chill that settles into her heart has nothing to do with the weather.
“Once you come home with me, I’ll give you a proper proposal,” he says. “I’m not that uncivilized. I do know how to treat a lady.”
Melly bares her teeth. “You’ll have to drag me there.”
The man has the gall to look offended. “I wouldn’t do that. I abhor violence. Besides, I don’t need to. You have to marry me. That’s how the legend goes.”
Oh, how she wishes that legends had no truth to them. Her lip is trembling, and though she has never felt more rage and hatred in her life, the anger does not overshadow the fact that she is terrified.
“My name is Alexander,” he continues, trying to make his voice gentler, though Melly is not fooled. “Won’t you tell me yours?”
He doesn’t need to ask. She has no choice.
And that is the story of how Melly met her husband.
For everyone else, however, they weave a different tale. Of Alexander spotting Melly as she sat by the seaside and feeling compelled to approach her, bewitched by her beauty. Of Melly knowing he was the one as soon as he joined her side and asked what she loved most about the ocean.
It was love at first sight. Melly’s tongue burns with disgust every time she tells that lie.
But their friends and family—by which she means Alexander’s friends and family—adore the idea of their fairytale romance. In front of them, he is the perfect gentleman. Only she knows the truth. He doesn't love her. He loves the idea of her not being able to leave. She is nothing more than a doll he can put in pretty dresses and parade around in order to make the other men of the town envious of his lovely wife.
Some of the women say that she is the lucky one, to have a man so handsome and well-off as Alexander. He is tall and quite muscular, with a full head of light brown hair. The corners of his mouth dimple when he smiles. His house lies upon the ridge near the edge of town. It is built sturdily, but with great attention to detail. The mint green paint is never allowed to flake or dull. There are many large windows that allow a gorgeous view of the ocean. He owns several boats and turns a sizable profit renting them to the oystermen and anglers that reside near them. Curiously, it seems that since he and Melly were wed, his prospects have gotten even better.
She sometimes wonders if he secretly resents the fact that all his good fortune is due to her imprisonment, or if the money and admiration is enough to make him ignore that fact.
Four long years pass this way. It might as well be an eternity.
Alexander does not keep her coat hidden away as one might think. It is displayed on the wall of their bedroom, still as beautiful as the day Melly lost it. But even though it is so close, she cannot take it. She cannot even touch it. It is just one more cruelty that he inflicts upon her, another way for him to remind her that she has no power here. As if she could ever forget.
Surely by now, her people must know what has happened to her. It was not unusual for Melly to go off on her own for months at a time, eager to explore different shores and their wonders, but never would she have stayed away for this long. But what good would knowing do? It’s not as if they could save her.
There are only two ways a selkie may reclaim their skin. If it is given back, or if the one who has stolen it dies. If she were able, Melly would have already killed him a thousand times over. But as she cannot raise a hand against him, it is up to the will of nature to decide when it is his time. So she plays the part of quiet, dutiful wife, and at night she stays awake and stares out into the darkness of the sea, so close and yet forever out of reach.
All she can do is wait for him to die.
She prays it will be soon.
She prays it will be painful.