Maire Clough

Before the banality of mankind snapped all pathways to Arcadia, there lived, in the summer lands of Great Britain, a prince and a princess among the fae. They ruled a land called Cill Dara, the Church of the Oaks - where monks and pooka pranked on each other, and the Christians and the pagans, mortal and fae, lived in harmony. Elathan ui Niall ap Gwydion and his selkie bride, Grainne ni Tegwared, ruled and loved for nearly four hundred years - as true Fae, their lives were extended well beyond that of the mortals.

Their story did not begin so peacefully. Grainne began life as the oldest daughter of the selkie king Tegwared. She was willful, proud, wild - everything good and bad about being the oldest daughter of a faerie king. As long as she got her way in things, she was as loving and gentle as any woman alive. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, she almost always got her way in things. Tegwared loved her dearly and spoiled her terribly. All was well until the selkies united in war with a local sidhe prince. Their common enemy was defeated through the ingenuity of Prince Elathan and a commoner selkie named Fiachra, captain of King Tegwared's guard. The two men, along with Grainne, a warrior in her own right, made a fearsome team. Tegwared, recognizing the political advantages of Elathan's obvious interest in his daughter, worked to arrange a match between the two kingdoms. Unfortunately, he chose not to consult Grainne, or even to inform her of his decision. Her heart already was given, to the commoner Fiachra. The two hoped that his prowess in battle and his service to Tegwared would stand him in good stead when the time came to ask for Grainne's hand.

Finally there came the feast to celebrate the selkie victory in their latest war. Prince Elathan was an honored guest, and many fae of both kingdoms were present. Tegwared, perhaps a bit drunk, chose this time to announce to both kingdoms the betrothal of his eldest, Grainne, to the proud, fierce Prince Elathan. Grainne rose from the head table, her eyes seeking Fiachra in the hall for a moment. The two had planned to go to Tegwared that very night and ask to be wed. Their eyes met - his resigned, hers beginning to blaze in anger. In a clear, ringing voice, she announced to the hall, to all of both kingdoms present, "With all due respect, my father, I will not be given away as a spoil of war to this..." Grainne looked over to Elathan, where he sat in full sidhe glory, and found that she could not form the insults on her lips, "...Prince, who is not one of our own. I am a full member of this household, of your army, and of your council. I am not chattel to be given to any hand that stretches forth." With that, she turned and walked from the hall, her head held high. Absolute silence reigned until she had vanished from the hall, then uproar ensued. Voices rose, scandalized and admiring, gossiping over the event. Tegwared looked as if he'd been caught in a gale-force storm. Elathan settled back in his chair at the feasting table, his eyes reflecting both amusement and admiration - little surprise, for he had learned already of Grainne's fire, indeed it was one of the reasons she had won his heart. Fiachra merely slipped from the hall unobserved and made his way to Grainne's chambers.

The two lovers met in secret, Fiachra consoling and urging her to consider her duty to the kingdom, Grainne rebellious and in a rage. He knew her better than to try and talk her down, and instead just let her rant and rave and vent at him. Finally, beginning to calm, Grainne realized there was really no way to oppose her father directly without tearing both kingdoms apart. Resigned, she held onto Fiachra and kissed him. "He will have me to wife, but I would give you myself. That at least, is still my choice." The two lay together for the first time that night, beginning an affair that lasted until well after Grainne and Elathan's wedding.

To call the beginning of their marriage stormy would be an understatement at best. If Elathan knew about Grainne and Fiachra, he never let on. While Grainne hated and resented Elathan at first, the sidhe's beauty and charm proved difficult to resist. Finally, after nearly a year of marriage, Grainne was forced to admit to herself that she had fallen in love with her husband, and that Fiachra was a love in her past, in her childhood. She was honest enough to go to Fiachra and end their relationship. From that point on, she was dedicated to her husband, and over the years of their reign, their love for one another grew into legend. Fiachra left the region to wander for countless years, returning now and then to his home, but only rarely.

Cill Dara was at peace for nearly four hundred years under Elathan and Grainne. Then, in the 1300s, came the Sundering, and then the Shattering. Grainne and several of the selkies of the household had gone to the undersea, to gather as many merfolk and selkie as they could for the return to Arcadia. Elathan and his retinue waited at the trod for their return. As the trod groaned and bent under the weight of encroaching banality, Elathan and his men fought to remain, waiting for Grainne to return. His fae self nearly unraveled, Elathan was forced to admit defeat, and the stepped through the trod, just as it snapped. Grainne arrived mere moments later, only to realize that she was left behind.

She survived, adopting the Changeling way like so many others. Everything she knew was gone: Elathan, Cill Dara, all were lost. The pain of the new banal world, combined with the pain of losing her truest love nearly destroyed Grainne, but her inner strength and fire saw her through. Ironically, her strongest mainstay for the remainder of her life proved to be Fiachra, who returned to the summer lands and became Grainne's dearest friend and staunchest supporter.

Grainne eventually passed her sealskin down to one of her daughters, a tradition that continued down though until 1725, when Margaret Fitzhugh, wife of a Marcher lord on the border of Wales and England, passed her selkie skin - the same one - to her ten year old daughter, Mary Elizabeth Fitzhugh. Margaret died shortly thereafter. It was a comfort to Mary to have, essentially, part of her mother's soul with her. She grew to be a beautiful young woman with much of Grainne's fire, tempered only slightly by her upbringing. Her fae self meant little to her, really, aside from the wonderful stories that she began to remember about her ancestor. From time to time, she was overwhelmed by the force of Grainne's life and personality, exhibiting her traits strongly while in the grip of her memory. Aside from these few oddities, she was a well-bred, well-educated lady of the Welsh-English gentry. Her father, much like Grainne's had, saw in her the potential for a beneficial marriage.

At the age of sixteen, however, Mary met a mortal lad from a nearby fishing village, and fell in love with him as deeply as Grainne had once loved Fiachra. Even at that young age, she recognized that her truest and deepest love would always be Elathan, but she also accepted that Elathan could never return to her unless the gates to Arcadia reopened. So she secretly allowed young Rhys Clough to court her. Of course, the day came when her father found a suitable match for his daughter and wished to betroth her to an English baron. So Mary found herself faced with the same choice as Grainne had once faced. Marry for love and defy her family, or marry for her family's sake a man she didn't love. Something snapped, and for a time it seemed that Grainne took over. With Elathan gone, Mary was damned if she'd let her family force her into another marriage. Gathering the small inheritance left her by her mother, and the jewelry that had been hers as well, Mary fled her family's home and married her beloved Rhys. She was summarily disowned, but she was happy.

Although both were quite young (Mary was 17 and Rhys was 19), they managed rather well. Rhys was a hard-working young man, and utterly devoted to his new bride. For her part, Mary was perfectly content to live her life so much nearer to the shoreline, the ocean as much a part of Rhys' life as hers. She had some contact with the selkies of her village, but she found that she was not widely trusted, due to her partially English upbringing. Rhys had more than an inkling of his wife's true nature, and was content with a selkie wife. After all, all the tales spoke of what good wives selkies made, if you could keep them. And since Rhys hadn't stolen her skin to win her heart, he felt safe.

Life continued for several years at a steady pace. Rhys found steady work as a hand on a fishing boat, the Gwenillian. He talked about someday having enough money to own his own boat, perhaps even a fleet of them. What a life they would lead then! They shared the sort of dreams that newly married couples have always shared down through time. Life was difficult at times, and going from gentleman's daughter to fisherman's wife was a huge transition for Mary (now called Maire by most of the village). Rhys was acutely conscious of all his wife had given up to marry him, and together they made the adjustment. The only true cloud over their marriage was Maire's apparent inability to conceive a child. In early spring of 1735, just weeks after Maire's twentieth birthday, disaster struck, in the form of a late winter storm. The Gwenillian went down, and all hands were lost.

For a time, Maire lost herself in Grainne's memories, in Grainne's very self. After the Shattering, Grainne was moody, ill-tempered often, and much more pessimistic. These were the traits Maire exhibited now. It was written off as a grief reaction by most, but Maire knew better. For a brief time, there was an active struggle between the two personalities. Maire eventually won, and realized that to truly heal, she needed to leave Wales. Too many memories, too many ghosts, so near to the home she shared with Rhys, and so near to the summer lands where Grainne once ruled with Elathan.

She gathered her few belongings once again to leave a home she had grown used to. The inheritance from her mother was still mostly intact, and the jewelry still hers. Maire traveled to England and found buyers for the jewelry, and paid for her passage to the Colonies. When the ship finally put in at Boston, something about it called her. So she stayed. Survival is paramount, finding some way to support herself as a woman on her own. Only somewhat secondary is healing, in mind and spirit. On some level, she finds herself hoping that the fae of Boston will be somewhat more willing to accept an outsider, so she can reestablish ties there. Find a mentor, perhaps. Or find someone who understands how wonderful and painful and frightening it can be to remember so much of a past existence.