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Prompt - Something Lost, Something Found
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SONG OF THE SEA ( joshua, alecto ) A selkie far from home, searching for his coat. He meets a kind, lonely, young fisherman who tends the lighthouse near the sea. |
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SONG OF THE SEA ( joshua, alecto ) A selkie far from home, searching for his coat. He meets a kind, lonely, young fisherman who tends the lighthouse near the sea. |
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“Darling, you’re making it sound like you’re going off to war.” A nervous little laugh. “Or that somehow the two of us will be spirited away in just a week. We’ll be here, Joshua, waiting for you. Rest assured. Really where else would we be?”
He pats the side of his husband’s face, considering him to be acting quite silly right now. “I’m not…sure what it is that’s making you so tense but I do have some ideas…” his hand grips in Joshua’s belt buckle, tugs, “…about how I can help relieve some of that stress for you, my love.”
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"I'll be back in another hour, once I'm finished up here," he says, firmly. "You should go back to the house first."
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And then he lays back on the dining table and spreads his legs, let’s Joshua plow into him, breed his wet, needy cunt as he bites down on his own fist to keep from making a sound in the quiet dark.
He whispers his love for him in gasps and whimpers, little held back moans. “Love of my life,” he says, the words a staccato as he jerks along with Joshua’s urgent thrusts. He runs his hands through his husband’s sweaty hair, pulls him so, so close. He never wants to let go.
There would never be anything, he thinks, that could make him let go.
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He comes desperately into Alecto, biting his lip bloody, thinks about Avery's request for a sibling, he thinks about their home, their family, filled to the brim with laughter and warmth and light, he thinks about coming home to Alecto, each and every night...
He shakily drops to his own knees, laps hungrily at Alecto between his legs to bring him to yet another peak of pleasure, muffling a desperate sob in the lewd wetness of their mutual joining, before they clean each other up in the dark and fall into bed. And if he clings a little tighter to both of them, if he wakes before the dawn to find Avery insinuated between them (once again), if he lingers a few moments more before he finally manages to extricate himself to trim the lighthouse lamps with the rising sun, what of it?
The next morning, he arranges the lighthouse shifts for the time he'll be gone, updates the notes in the logs, reminds the two assistant keepers of their other duties, before arranging his travel and purchasing his train tickets. He comes home in the middle of the day, officially off-duty, and finds most of his things laid out for him already - yet another little weight of Alecto's thoughtfulness, with Avery mischievously unfolding and wrinkling his shirts as he tosses them about the room, so pleased to have 'papa' home unexpectedly to play with him. He packs and prepares with as light a heart as he can manage, knowing now the weight of his own failure, throwing himself utterly into enjoying this remaining time, preparing for the oncoming change.
He kisses them both goodbye the next morning with a genuine smile, slings his travel bags over his shoulder, with the packet holding all the letters and documents he'd amassed over the past few years. The trip itself is uneventful, the quiet sway of travel by horse and the metallic racket of the tracks a significant change from the crash of waves on rocks and the clatter of ships being built. He forgets, sometimes, how different things are inland, dusty stretches of road lined with trees instead of dune grass and shell fragments, the chittering of birds hidden in the forest a more subdued music than the screams of the gulls, the dirt and grime of the cities a muddy contrast to constant wind and grainy sand, but just as pervasive and prevalent.
He presents himself at the law offices in his most formal attire; he draws more than a few eyes, all of which he ignores. The lawyer listed in his correspondence greets him personally after verifying his identity, invites him to walk down to the bank with him to see the box.
The box itself seems small, for what it purports to hold. The lawyer outlines the discovery, several years into the process, of Nathaniel's papers and a letter contained within the box itself, both of which contained strict instructions from the deceased not to allow anyone other than Alecto Blackburn to claim its contents.
The lawyer chuckles, the tone dry and sardonic as old bones. "Not that that was going to stop Mr. Blackburn's relatives. To be honest, I was hoping you'd bring Alecto Bla- ah, Alecto Archer along with you, Mr. Archer. We've all been so curious." Joshua demurs as politely as he can, citing the presence of a child, which the lawyer accepts readily as excuse enough to avoid travel.
"Most of these are trinkets, you understand, Mr. Archer," he says, in a confiding, confidential tone. "A few items carefully set aside for his wife - not a large amount in the grand scheme of things, but enough to keep an economical widow in comfort for a few months." And Joshua remembers the rest of the inventory - mostly jewelry, a few other personal sundry items. He remembers Alecto coming back from an unexpected trip to the next town over, without his wedding ring, and excitedly outlining to Joshua what he wanted to do with the proceeds of its sale.
"The coat, however..." The lawyer's voice lowers, and Joshua has to fight against a feeling of revulsion at the avid expression on the man's face. "The family demanded an accounting of all his unencumbered assets, and the previous executor was - a man easily influenced. My associates tell me that things nearly came to blows in the office at the time. But the letter was very clear; possession of these items was to remain with Alecto Blackburn only, and to do otherwise was to risk violating the favorable terms outlined in the rest of the settlement."
He chuckles again, as he offers Joshua the key to the box, with the bank's attendant standing watch in the room behind them. "Particularly since there was a stream of regular correspondence to the bank, indicating that someone was aware of and interested in the disposition of this particular deposit, someone with connections to Mr. Blackburn's widow. Someone who was willing, it seemed, to diligently pursue the matter on his behalf without any expectation of - financial compensation. The rest of the Blackburns were all too ready to continue to defraud a widow with no family support, but it seemed he had some luck on his side." The lawyer slants a look at Joshua, holding the key silently, his expression politely interested, but clearly oddly tense at the way he'd somehow been slotted into the story.
"I'll leave you to it then, Mr. Archer. Once you've verified the contents against the listed inventory, I'll need you to sign an affidavit for the bank's records, along with a copy of your personal identification and your marriage license to keep on file. Then you can take full possession, and I'll have finally discharged this responsibility."
~~~
The coat is, as expected, beautiful; maybe more beautiful even than he had been imagining all these years. Whether that's a product of reality or of coming to know its owner is a distinction that Joshua is far from inclined to investigate.
It's a far lighter color than Avery's own sealskin, the exact white of that seal from his childhood memories, and almost shimmers even in the dim lamps in the room of the boardinghouse where Joshua had taken a room for the night. Logically speaking, he had no need to fear theft or some other kind of discovery, but he'd locked and barred the door and drawn the curtains in the windows all the same. He lays it out on the bed, his rough hands careful and gentle, as painstaking with the coat as he would be with its true owner (except in cases where the true owner might demand rougher treatment), his palms stroking over the softness with reverence. He can't quite let it out of his sight; he even sleeps next to it on the bed that night, the coat clutched to him as he inhales the scent of the sea, thinking of home.
He packs it carefully the next day, wrapping it in layer upon layer of fine silk purchased from town, and then in a colorful oilcloth packet, before he tucks it back into the lockbox again. The box - so small, again, for what it contained - fits easily in his own bags for travel. He buys treats for Avery, including a small model train, a few items for Alecto and other friends in town, and then goes to the station to catch his train back home.
Through the entire journey, he wrestles with his own thoughts. They were already happy as things were, he reasoned; hadn't Alecto said, all those years ago, that he loved Joshua as much as he'd loved the sea, that he could live out his days with him without ever finding his coat again? And there was Avery now, to think of (his heart sinks again at that thought, of their son being impacted by whatever this became between them, whatever he ended up deciding); weren't things just... better now? If Alecto never found out, he would never know what had been missing.
But Joshua had never been a very good liar, and even less so when it came to Alecto. And he doesn't know how long he could keep this secret, even when their happiness depended on it, when he couldn't even keep Alecto from suspecting that something was on his mind, simply from a disquieting letter.
The train arrives a little early without coming to a real conclusion. On a whim, he stops in at the town post office and greets the postman there with a smile and some stories of his brief foray outside of town. But could he ask the man a favor, and swear him to secrecy, perhaps? He'd brought back something for his wife - the man nods, knowingly - and he wanted to surprise him with it at a later date. Could he perhaps trust the post office to keep it safe for him until he was ready to give it to him? Maybe even stage a delivery when Joshua gave the word? He hands over the lockbox with a mix of relief and dread.
And then finally heads home again.
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A breeze picks up and Alecto tilts his head. As usual, he can smell his husband before he can even see or hear him: the scent of earth and something tannic, mannish. He immediately looks up, hoisting the wicker basket up against his hip, and going down the grassy hill to meet him.
"Welcome back, darling," he says, melodious as always, his voice carrying with immense warmth in the open air. He's a sight to behold against the huge expanse of sky and sea behind him, a pale, lithesome figure like some marble statue of a nereid come to life. When he's close enough to touch, he bumps his nose to Joshua's, an old habit of theirs that hasn't quite gone away, before fully kissing him on the lips. Within the basket, Avery is snoring.
"How was the trip? Did you get everything sorted?"
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He eases the door open with a graceful push of his shoulder and settles the basket with his son down by the window in a sunspot, eager not to disturb him for now. The house smells of fresh lavender and herbs, a kettle on the potbelly stove still hot and steaming. It's welcoming and clean, as always.
Alecto floats over now with his hands free to help Joshua with his things: hanging up his coat and hat before bending down to undo the laces of his boots for him. "Joshua," he says, as he rises then, his expression practically glowing. "Now, I know you've just had a long journey and I do want you to rest soon but...I've something to share. And I really don't want to keep waiting to tell you. Go on -" He feels giddy as he shoos his husband to the couch before taking a seat beside him, their thighs pressed close, Alecto's hand clasped onto Joshua's own as he leans readily into his space.
"Listen, darling," he says quietly, unable to contain his beaming smile. "I'm pregnant."
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He lets his things settle, smiling softly at Alecto fussing over him. He can't help glancing around the space, how thoroughly Alecto has made his mark upon it, every single corner of it his, taking the sterile space originally assigned to him and making it into a home for their family, when Joshua had only ever assumed it would be for him, a bachelor, alone until something changed. Somehow, things had shifted, his assumption that he would likely be single for the foreseeable future had turning into the expectation of a family.
Laughingly, he lets Alecto lead him over to the couch, to sit near him. He's so tempted to pull him closer, right into his lap, to wrap a possessive arm around him and take some small advantage of their son being asleep for the moment. This was all so good, a happiness enough for a thousand of his own lifetimes, just as it had been before he'd received the letter, before the unnecessary receipt in his pocket, heavy for what it represented, before what he was coming to realize was an end. One he could put off for just a little while longer...
"You're-" He says, smiling in automatic response to Alecto's expression, and then his entire face lights up. He stifles the shout that wants to escape (the stifled wail of despair), and leans in to kiss him, hard, searching, affectionate. "How- how far along- How do you know-?"
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"And I hope she looks like you," he continues, pushing back Joshua's hair, admiring him with so much love. "And she has these beautiful golden curls, and your kind eyes, your sunkissed skin."
For a brief moment, while Alecto is studying his husband's face so closely, he swears he sees a flutter of something intensely sad, a deep despair in Joshua's expression, in the thin line of his lips. It makes him frown just a little, wondering if it was just a trick of the afternoon light or his own imagination.
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"As long as they're happy, as long as we can give them whatever they need," he says, meeting Alecto's eyes. He wants everything he's saying so badly he can feel a deepseated ache for it. He folds Alecto's hands into his. "As long as we're all together."
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A kiss now to his husband’s forehead before he stands and goes over to the window where he hears Avery start to honk and fuss about, cranky no doubt. If his husband were to turn towards them then, he’d see Alecto holding their adorable pup up by his front flippers so that they could press their noses together. Avery’s fuzzy little body wiggling in delight at the sight of his mother. The light outside streams in and bathes Alecto in warmth as he hums playfully to Avery, whispering, “Momma’s got a wonderful surprise for you, my little tidal wave. But you’ll have to be patient ok? Just a few more months…”
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He makes it barely four days.
The two days immediately after his return are dark with rain, and he has to spend them at the lighthouse, keeping the lanterns lit almost throughout the entire day, taking careful shifts to keep things operating properly, while still stopping regularly down at the cottage to check on Alecto and Avery. But the third day brings them washed-out sun, and a spectacular sunset, (sailor's delight, as they say), and Joshua suggests an evening's walk to the shore again, so Avery can stretch his fins.
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Alecto is sitting in the sand, the water from the sea surging forward in even breaths, dampening his clothes. But he doesn’t mind. He is trying to help Avery don his sealskin - “Give me your hand, arm up…” - pulling the sleeves on for him as the boy impatiently wriggles. Alecto brushes his fingertips, roughened a little from years now of housework, of scrubbing linens and floors and cooking warm meals for his family, over the fur and his heart clenches in pain.
Avery says, “Momma, why don’t you ever swim with me? You’re a selkie too right?”
And Alecto’s breath catches in his throat, threatening to choke a sob out of him.
“Oh, Avery,” he says, shakily, patting back his son’s mess of dark hair. He tries to offer an reassuring smile and he’s not sure if it was meant for himself or for his son. Avery is looking at him with wide, bright eyes, and genuine, childish confusion. “I…I can’t.”
“Well,” Avery huffs, “why not.”
“My coat is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“A man…before your father, took it from me. And now I’m never able to return to the sea. And it’s why I warn you all the time to keep this,” he pinches the fur between his fingers, “safe. To never give it up, even for someone who says they love you. You hear me?” It’s not worth it.
Avery thinks on this. He ignores the warning, apparently far more concerned about the current issue at hand, unable and unwilling to consider the fears of such a far future. “You belong in the sea, Momma, like the rest of us. That’s just not fair. Can’t you make a new coat?”
Alecto shakes his head, aching but amused by his son’s innocence, as he slowly pulls the hood of Avery’s sealskin over his head to finish the ritual of transformation. When next his son blinks up at him, it’s in his seal form, wordless and sweet, his big, damp eyes concerned. “No, but that’s not for you to worry about my little one. Go on. Go.” He pats his pup’s rump and urges him into the tides. Avery looks back now and again but ultimately swims off, soon having forgotten about the dry land and his mother’s sorrow.
Alecto waits until his son is far enough away to finally break down. The tears burst through him as he clutches his arms around himself, holding himself tight, feeling for the first time, in a long time, that initial loss so starkly. He wails, but tries to muffle it, a hand over his own mouth. His body curls in on itself. He’ll never be able to join his son, he thinks, never be able to swim with him the way he should. The ocean, from now on, will always be just an open wound for him.
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What did it matter, in the end, that Alecto had made some small happiness for himself, for them, here on dry land? The home they'd built, his marriage with Joshua, even their children - there was still no way to make up for that initial violence, that theft, of such an intrinsic part of his nature.
Joshua might be able to swim with their son, their future child, in either of their forms, even if they'd always outstrip him, leave him farther and farther behind as they grew; this was simply parenthood, the natural order of things, even if they didn't happen to be children born of love and magic and the rising waves. He knew - had always known - that was a part of them he could never touch. But for Alecto...
"Dearest," he says, quiet, subdued, almost choking on the simple syllables. "I...think I'll head back first." His arms ache to hold him, to wrap around Alecto and keep him close, to wipe those tears away with his rough fingers, his lips, to taste the bitter salt of sorrow mingled with the ocean's brine. But even if he wasn't the original source of those tears, he was at least a continuation of them, now. He had no right to attempt to ease them now, to attempt to fill that gaping void with his small self, what little he had to offer, though he would willingly pour it all out for Alecto, if he thought it would ease even a fraction of that pain.
He couldn't. But he knew what could, even if he had lost his own way, even if the thought of what would follow fills him with dread.
A package arrives the very next morning, directly to the house, the postman smiling indulgently when Alecto answers the door. "This is for you," he announces with a cheerful grin. "From your husband."
Joshua, eyes bleary with no sleep, watches Alecto accept it curiously, his heart sinking with every single passing moment. But the sight of Alecto, of their son running around the house with the excitement of interrupted routine, is always a quiet balm, whatever his other hurts, and he stores the memory up against their inevitable absence, these smaller, commonplace joys, of simply being together.
For as long as it lasted.
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Well. How nice is this?
He grins back at his husband, finger toying with the ribbon around the top of it. "Oh, what's this now? It looks expensive..." he asks, and goes to sit by the window, admiring the packaging. Behind him, outside, the sea is a calm, clear blue.
"You spoil me, darling," he continues as he tenderly unwraps the box and takes the top off, reveling in the piles of silk he sees initially. He runs his fingers over it - it's cold and so very fine. It feels almost like water itself. "Really," his eyes shine happily as he unfolds the layers in his lap, "you shouldn't have -"
And suddenly, he stops. All the color drains from his face and throat and abruptly, everything goes so, so cold, disharmony spreading all over his body language. Even Avery picks up on the shift in atmosphere, ceasing his romping and peeking at his mother from where he was crawling about on the couch, his tiny hands gripping the cushions. Alecto can't believe what he's seeing.
The box falls to the ground, forgotten. Slowly, cautiously, he holds up a fine, shimmery, sealskin. His sealskin. He's sure of it. He could recognize it anywhere, in fact, had been searching for it, yearning for it ever since that first night he was ripped from the sea and held tight to a selfish man's chest, cursed to the land forever.
The early morning sunlight makes it shine like diamond dust.
"I," Alecto begins, weakly, and his upper lip trembles when he tries to speak. He blinks hard, opening his eyes again with a terrified expression as if he's expecting his hands to suddenly be empty if he so much as breathes. But they're not empty. They're full of soft, magical fur dotted with a constellation of little grey speckles, and it feels like - freedom.
But that moment of elation, of initial shock, is tinctured with something bitter and ugly. A poisonous truth, an equation of time that begins to piece itself together, starting to form a picture that Alecto doesn't want to look at, doesn't even want to consider as a real possibility.
He throat is dry and tight, as if he swallowed a handful of something sharp, something meant for killing. "You -" he turns his gaze to Joshua, to his husband of so many years, a man he adored, that he promised himself to, that he gave children to - but instead of his usual love and trust, Alecto can feel nothing but crushing, furious grief.
"You had this?" His voice is barely a whisper, his tone crushed small by pain, "This - this whole time? You -" He rises, legs shaky, hands shaky, everything just trembling, threatening to fall to pieces. "You kept this?"
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This is the end, he knows now, the price he's paying for the silence he kept, all the liberties he took for the past two weeks. He can't say for sure whether it's worth it or not.
"The trip I took," he says by way of agreement, dully, almost listless as he sits up, curls in on himself, his gaze fixed on Alecto, but skittering, unable to look at him directly, looking uncharacteristically small and subdued. "They found it with - with Nathaniel's things. But -"
He stifles a sob, a choked sound in the back of his throat. "You're right. I did keep it from you."
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"Why," he asks, flatly, unable to move. He thinks maybe he's being too unforgiving, too cruel, because he already knows the answer: that Joshua loved him. And that when a man is so helplessly so, he can confuse things like possession for adoration.
But he wants to hear his husband admit it.
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"I'd...hoped," his words come out haltingly, shaky, but genuine, "that - maybe I could be enough." He glances at Avery, and then again at Alecto, at the new shared life already growing within him. "But I do know now that I can't - that I could never - be enough."
"I wasn't - I'm still not - ready for what I think this means. Because of what I know I've done. But that's my responsibility to bear, not yours."
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"Joshua," he says, quietly, a little helplessly. His heart still pulls towards him, pained to see him in pain, even if Alecto himself was still struggling to forgive him for bearing this secret. "I..." do love you he wants to say. That hasn't changed, won't change. But how can he explain that he's more than just this, that he's a wild creature, bound to the song of the sea, and that sometimes loss can be so big, bigger than imagining, too big for even love to cover over -
" - need to go." The words are barely audible, the hum and call of the ocean now so clear, so reachable.
Alecto's hand goes to his stomach almost automatically, and then glances over to Avery who looks so confused, so defeated. There's an immeasurable sorrow that fills Alecto now, making him want to rush to comfort his son, hold him close. He's innocent in this, completely. Alecto feels terrible to have to put his pup through this pain.
"Come here, my little one," he beckons, bending down, and Avery instantly rushes to him, sensing something is changing, leaving. Alecto kisses his forehead as he starts to cry, a bright tear tracing a path down his cheek and dripping onto his son's dark hair. "Listen to me. Be good now. I need to...I need to go for a while, do you understand?" Avery doesn't, it's clear in his little face, and he may never, but Alecto rushes on.
"Remember when you asked me to swim in the sea last night? I can do that now, and I - I can go home." He cups the side of his son's face, tilts it to look up at him. "I haven't been home in so very long. So I - I need to do that now. Alright? Help take care of your father for me, will you? Oh, my little tidal wave. I love you so." Alecto's voice cracks just a little, clutching his son close, his sealskin between them, a thin divider, before he pulls back and quickly lets the robe he was previously wearing fall to the ground, replacing it with his coat, the fur sliding onto him with such practice familiarity. Safe, he feels safe and whole. Finally.
He makes for the door, a blur of silver and magic, and chances a look back at his husband, at the house they made together, the family they were building. His chest goes tight. It's not fair, he thinks. It's not fair that he has to break Joshua's heart to mend his own.
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Joshua stands up from where he's been sitting and walks forward, takes Avery's hand gently in his own as he walks past him where he is staring, teary-eyed and bemused, and leads him to the door where Alecto is standing, looking back. Joshua's eyes are dry, his expression as calm and steady as he can make it, but if anyone in this world knows him well, it is Alecto Archer, his wife of six years, the keeper of their home and his heart, the mother of their son, of another child he might never get a chance to meet. He reaches out with his other hand, his fingers tentative and gentle as they wrap around Alecto's wrist, as he bows his head low and brings it up to his mouth for a kiss, the slightest brush of his lips against the back of Alecto's hand.
"Please take care of yourself," he murmurs. He doesn't know if he can say everything else in his heart - how much he loved Alecto, how much he would be missed, how often he would look out at the sea and wish him well, how sorry he was for his human weakness and sentiment.
And then he lets go.
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He wants to stay. But he can't help but leave.
"Darling," he says, that treasured term of endearment, now a farewell, trembling with so much feeling. He pulls back to press their foreheads together, briefly. But, try as he might, nothing else comes to him then, a multitude of things he wishes he could say, wishes he could explain, compromise on. But the tide is calling and his magic must run free -
So with that, he flees, his tears stinging cold on his face, but the breath of relief he feels when he finally pulls up the hood of his coat and turns back to what he's supposed to be...it's unparalleled.
Alecto disappears beneath the swell of the rising tide, a flash of pearl white. On the black rocks of the sea cliffs from where he leapt, he leaves behind his wedding band, a thin gold halo glinting in the sun.