Bride of the Sea_A Little Mermaid Retelling

by Emma Hamm

  “I have. And I’d like to see my wife.”

  “Master, wait—”

  He didn’t pause to listen to whatever the man wanted to prattle on about. Servants were always so focused on what was proper, and he didn’t have time for proper. Propriety be damned; he’d waited a very long time to see Saoirse.

  And if she was still abed, more the better.

  He took the stairs two at a time. His boots cracked against the wood, a staccato beat that echoed the beating of his heart. He was nearly there.

  Soon, he would see her again. As much as he hated to admit it, she’d become a part of him. Saoirse, his sweet Saoirse.

  Never again would he insist they sleep in separate beds. Never again would he set her aside when there was work to be done. He’d be a better husband and focus less on being a better lord.

  Who cared that they had money and station now? If the other nobles wanted to gossip, let them. No one could take away his wealth and they damn well weren’t taking his wife.

  He set his shoulder to her door and shoved hard. It slammed against the side wall, echoing as he strode in like he owned the place.

  “Wife?” he called out. “I have returned.”

  No one responded to his call. Frowning, he glanced around the room which was oddly put together. She wasn’t so tidy. Saoirse had a way of making messes everywhere she went. Her maids could hardly keep up with her, a fact they enjoyed telling him, but Manus liked being able to track her through the house.

  “Saoirse?”

  The silence was deafening.

  Footsteps heralded the approach of an entire servant army. The maids reached him first, their hair in disarray and skirts held up around their ankles.

  “My lord, we didn’t expect you to return so soon.”

  “We’re so glad you’ve arrived safe and sound. When we heard no news, we became worried.”

  His accountant arrived next, pulling off his hat and gloves. “Master, we kept careful watch over your fortune. We can easily continue on in such a manner for a long time. I assure you, we have not misused your wealth in your absence.”

  The head housekeeper was next, brushing aside the maids with an angry swipe. “It’s good to have you home, my lord. There is much I must speak with you about. Plenty of work to be done, I’m afraid.”

  Manus didn’t want to hear any of it. They chattered like hens in a yard until he snapped. “Silence!”

  The entire crowd of people fell still. A hairpin might have dropped to the floor and he would have heard it.

  “Where is my wife?”

  Not a single servant dared to say a word.

  “You there.” He pointed at the butler who had tried to get his attention upon arrival. “Explain.”

  “My lord I-I-I’m uncertain that I’m the appropriate person to do so.”

  “Where is my wife?” Manus thundered.

  One of the maids, the whore he’d appreciated most in the brothel, stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. “Manus, I’m sorry. She’s gone.”

  “Gone where? I’ll go and get her. A wife should know to stay and wait for her husband’s return.”

  Anger simmered in his blood. Not at Saoirse, but at the servants who tried to keep his attention away from that which was important. Who cared about the gardens, the money, or the house? He cared about his bride whom he had not had enough time to enjoy.

  “No,” the maid murmured and shook her head. “She’s gone, Manus.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “She went down by the sea, she often walks at the shore. We thought nothing of it, but her friend…the red headed lord? He came back and said she was swept out by a rogue wave. There was nothing he could do. We looked for her, Manus. We looked for days. I’m so sorry.”

  They believed it. Every one of his servants believed the most ridiculous tale he’d ever heard before. They thought she was dead.

  Their faces fell in sadness. Tears welled in the eyes of the head housekeeper, a woman he knew to be emotionless and cold. They thought he would fly into a rage, blame them for her death, or worse fire them all.

  What they didn’t know, was that Saoirse could swim. She could swim better than any human and no rogue wave could tear her from his side.

  But she could leave him.

  His heart clenched, and his palms grew sweaty. She had left him. She had decided that her old life was better than this one.

  Gods, he couldn’t breathe.

  “Leave me,” he growled. “Leave me be.”

  He backed into her room and slammed the door in the faces of all those who remained. They loved him, or some strange semblance of love he couldn’t understand. Did he even know what love was?

  The only person who had ever loved him had left.

  Hands shaking, blood boiling, breath rattling out of his lungs, he turned towards the room which was too put together and let out a rage filled roar. She’d left him? Why?

  He swept his arms over her vanity, sending her bottles of perfumes to the floor. They shattered and filled the room with cloying scents, but he didn’t care. He only wanted to tear into everything more.

  He’d given her a good life. He’d bought her the most beautiful house in Uí Néill, loved her as no man had ever loved a woman before. And she repaid him by leaving?

  For hours he raged in her room, shattering furniture, tossing sheets and pieces of her bed over the balcony out to sea. He hoped she was out there in the bay, watching his rage and feeling as though he would do the same to her should she ever return. She had no right to leave him!

  Hours later, when his rage died down and the ache in his heart became too strong to ignore, Manus knelt amid the destruction he’d wrought and sobbed.

  He’d lost her, and he knew why. It wasn’t her fault his soiled hands had touched her perfect flesh. It wasn’t her fault his pathetic attempts at winning her heart had failed.

  It was entirely his.

  Water rushed over Saoirse’s shoulders and poured down the hollow of her spine. The ocean caressed her like a lover who’d not seen her in years. It tangled through her hair, sending it flying behind her in a billowing mass of black ink.

  Tendrils of kelp brushed her arms and fish rushed past her. Bubbles of laughter erupted from her lips. She rolled over and over, spinning in euphoria like a top set free from its string. The farther she got from shore, the more she felt like herself.

  Pieces of her mind fit themselves back into the holes of her psyche. She could breathe again after feeling for months like she was gasping for air.

  She smoothed her hands up her sides, feeling the pin prick of scales and the flaps of her gills as she gasped in the sweet, salty water.

  This was how she was supposed to live. This was where her life began and would end.

  In the arms of the sea.

  She needed to find the other merrows, the ones Declan had spoken of. They were likely her mother’s cousins. She’d come from these parts, or at least waters that weren’t warm with rocky shores. Merrow pods migrated, she had no way of knowing where they would be this time of year.

  Saoirse dove deep into the bay, searching for the one person who might be able to guide her in the right direction.

  The shipwreck loomed in the distance, dark and foreboding. She didn’t want to see the bean sídhe again. The woman’s nightmarish visage would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

  An eel slithered from the darkness. It stretched its neck and hissed as she swam past.

  “Just a little further,” she murmured.

  Tingles slid up her spine as hundreds of eyes blinked open and watched her approach. She settled a hand on the tiny bump of her belly, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth.

  “Don’t talk,” the bean sídhe interrupted her from the mass of eels. “You have returned already. For money or for information, either request will be denied. Begone from this place, cursed merrow.”

  “I need your help,” she blurted.

 
“And my help is not for sale.”

  “Please!” Saoirse lurched forward with her arms outstretched. Eels snapped at her fingertips, hissing and coiling in a mass of rage.

  The bean sídhe shushed them with quiet hums. She petted their backs, long strokes that calmed their ire. All Saoirse could see was her pale white hands until a gap in the writhing bodies revealed her skeletal face.

  “You are desperate,” the bean sídhe mused. “Why I wonder? Has your human disappeared into the sea and you wish to find him? You know the ocean keeps her treasures.”

  “No, I need to find the merrow pod which lives in these waters. Do you know where they are?”

  A pale, milky hand reached out to her. “Why are you searching for your own kind?”

  “I need to find them.”

  “We faeries trade in knowledge, merrows. What has sent you back into the arms of the ocean when you know it’s a dangerous place for one who has run from it?”

  “I’m no longer running.” In response, a current pushed against her back, whirling around her tail and trailing up her spine. “I need to find my people for the safety of myself and my child.”

  “Child?” The bean sídhe’s eyes widened. “What have you done?”

  Saoirse rubbed a hand against her belly. “Only that which can be born from true love.”

  “You have condemned an innocent soul to the same life you ran from.” The bean sídhe shook her head in disgust. “I will tell you where the merrows are, but only because I know the harrowing journey ahead. That pod differs from the others, you’ll see why, and you are not suited for the life they lead.”

  “But my child will be?”

  “Your daughter won’t have a choice.”

  “Daughter?” Saoirse gave the bean sídhe a shy smile. “Can you tell for certain?”

  “Humans and merrows can only produce girls.” She lifted a hand and pointed towards the darkness. “Follow the whale song. They travel with a pod of orcas who are more likely to bite you than bring you to their favorite merrows. Be careful when you see them and hold your distance.”

  “How will they know I’m there?”

  “Oh, they’ll know.” An eel stretched out and nipped at the tip of her tail. “Now, go.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. Saoirse launched herself away from the darkness, from the fearful tomb of undulating flesh.

  Hours passed, but she didn’t feel the ache or pain of movement. Her muscles longed for use, her tail whipping back and forth in wild abandon. She was free. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was free.

  She let herself enjoy the moment. She’d earned a few moments of bliss before the hole inside her chest opened back up.

  One thought of Manus, and the ocean swept away the tears leaking from her eyes. He might be home even now, finding the empty bedroom, home, and life he returned to. Would he miss her?

  Saoirse knew deep in her heart he would. He would miss her but not a single soul would know.

  Had Declan told him yet? She hoped he had been there when Manus arrived. The servants would have so much to say, rumors would start, and she hated to think of what they might come up with.

  Hopefully, they all believed she was dead.

  Saoirse stroked her belly and shook her head. When had her life degraded to this? It wasn’t fair that anyone think she was dead, even less that Manus believe it. It was bad enough he would always question what he did wrong.

  Guilt latched onto her heart with gnashing teeth. There was no other way. Declan was right, the ocean had washed away much of the pain his absence had caused. Already, she felt more like herself. The baby stretched inside her, pleased with its new home as much as its mother.

  She sighed. If given the choice, she would make the same decision again. She had to choose which future would give her enough time to live for the baby to be born.

  Manus had to understand that.

  Clicking calls echoed through the surrounding water. She didn’t know how long she’d traveled. Hours, days, it was all the same in the depths of the ocean. But these were different cries, not the dolphin song nor familiar whale song.

  These sounds were aggressive. They attacked her sensitive ears and warned her to stay still, to freeze, to flee from the predators likely speeding towards her through the murk.

  She hesitated, floating in the water and rotating as she tried to find the beasts. They weren’t sharks who were easily encouraged to leave merrows alone.

  Orcas were highly intelligent and deadly beasts. If they wanted her dead, they would chase her to the ends of the oceans. Their teeth shredded bodies in seconds, their powerful forms sliced through the water with impressive speed, and they liked to play with their prey.

  Her gills flared wide. They would not take her. Not yet, not when she had come so far to find the only family she had left.

  A black flash skirted past her, buffeting her body with a powerful current of water that shoved her towards another black and white spotted body. But Saoirse was prepared, and she was desperate. Baring her teeth, she flared her fins and lifted her hands into claws.

  “You will not take me,” she growled. “I am here to speak with your masters, and I will not die before I meet them.”

  The orcas slowed in their attack. They stared at her, the depths of the ocean reflected in the dark pools of their eyes. She knew they understood her. Why were they not leaving?

  Then she saw them. Bodies rising out the depths with spears in their hands. Strong women with muscular bodies and cords wrapped around their biceps with jingling shells hanging to their wrists. They were shadows in the water, warrior women each one.

  “Welcome sister,” one called out. She swam forward, and Saoirse saw the other merrow’s face was tattooed with wave patterns. “You have come a long way to speak with my pod.”

  “I wish to join you.”

  The shadows doubled, tripled, then grew in a number so large Saoirse couldn’t begin to count them. So many merrows, all together in safety and health. They would be a good family to join if they would have her.

  “Why should we allow you to join us?” the merrow asked.

  Saoirse thought it likely this was the leader. No other had the tattooed markings, that she could see, and they waited for this woman to speak.

  “I have traveled from distant, warm waters. I came here to share my life with a human man.” Rumbles whispered across the waves as the merrows drifted closer to each other, their disappointed comments stinging Saoirse’s ears. “I love him. He is a good man, but the sea calls to him. I cannot compete with our mother.”

  “No, I imagine no creature on earth could do that.”

  Saoirse nodded in agreement. “He travels far from my side, and through our bond, I am fading. I ask not for myself, but for the babe growing within me. Give her the life she deserves.”

  “Should your child not be with its father?”

  She pressed a hand against her stomach, fear dancing along her skin. Some might say the babe belonged with Manus. But she knew this was the right choice. Manus wouldn’t know how to raise a merrow child, and the babe would bond to him and likely die while he was off on one of his adventures. He would never know why.

  “No. I will not burden him with such a child. Faeries need to raise faeries.”

  It was the right thing to say. A few of the merrows nodded in agreement, some of them even swimming closer to see the newcomer. Light reflected in their eyes. Pools of glowing green stared at her from the darkness of the sea.

  Saoirse swallowed and turned towards the leader. “I request sanctuary from all who would harm me. I do not require you or your family accept me as your own. My time is limited in this world. I ask only for protection from my blood kin until the child is born.”

  “What would you have us do about your deteriorating mind?”

  “Nothing.” She answered honestly. “Let me die.”

  “You do this for a human? Why?”

  “I love him enough to ri
sk my immortality. I want a good life for the child we have created, one I would approve of, one that is familiar to me.”

  “Does he know of the babe?”

  “No.”

  The leader decided and gave a simple response. She sternly nodded, slid her spear into its holder, and opened her arms. “Welcome, daughter. You will my join my family for as long as you are with us.”

  Tears gathered in Saoirse’s eyes, but the ocean wiped them away as she raced forward to be folded into the arms of her people once more.

  Manus stared into the fires of the great hall, a bottle of rum loosely held in his hand. He didn’t care if it dropped to the floor with the others, they’d already done their job. Drunk was an understatement for his current form.

  He hadn’t wanted to be merely drunk; he wanted to forget he even existed. Two bottles of rum down and already the room was a little hazy. Black dots pricked at his vision, something he likely should worry about, and the entire room listed to the left. But this was how he wanted to be. He couldn’t remember anything when he was this drunk.

  A sweet scent danced through the air. Salt, sea breeze, the brush of wind against his skin. And suddenly all he could think of was a candlelit night when dark strands of hair brushed across his chest and a voice whispered in his ear, “Manus, my love.”

  He swatted at the air over his head, trying with all his might to bat away her ghost. She had no reason to linger. She’d left.

  And he still couldn’t get her out of his thoughts.

  Every time he blinked, he saw the way she tilted her head when she had a question. The graceful arch of her neck when she laughed, likely at something he said that embarrassed or pleased her. The dance of her fingers as she walked down the stairs, each fingertip alighting on the railing for brief moments before skipping over the wood.

  Every movement was fluid grace, and every glance seared him to the bone.

  Her dark eyes haunted him. They stared back from the shadows, swirling in the gloom and glowing with so much love and trust that his heart nearly burst.

  The flames crackled and grew tall. He stared into their depths with as much concentration as his foggy mind could muster and swore he saw them coalesce into a single figure. A merrow who swam through the fire.