Chapter Text
The fur is warm and silky in his hand, the pale light of a full moon illuminating the rough rocky pathway down to the cove where the woman waits. There is a limp to his gait, a dark splash of something on his cheek where he was cut, and his lip is aching fiercely at the split caused by a drunken fist. Still, his prize is heavy where it is clutched in his fingers, neatly folded as he left the tavern in bitter victory. There is no joy that night to be found in his heart, instead a deep seated pain that winds its way around his chest and squeezes like a vice.
There, seated on a smooth rock worn by countless tides, is his love. Moonlight paints her skin in shades of blue and silver, wind ruffling short hair around her shapely face. She wears a billowing shift, the only clothing that she can stand when she is close to the sea. Wide golden eyes are staring into the horizon, watching foaming waves as they crash on the shore before her. The sea is a sirens song to them both, and he knows he will lose her to it that night by his actions.
Indecision churns in his gut, a roiling living beast that eats away at his thoughts and jumbles his emotions. He is unbearably selfish, wanting to keep her when she has already been chained by another and he has the power to release her. It’s a simple transition to change the ownership, cruel in its indifference and utterly binding. He had beaten the idiot who dared first steal the coat in a flurry of fists and anger. Rightfully by the law that governed her, she was his now. The proof of that lay in his hands, warding off the chill of night and wind.
And yet he looks at her and see’s the pain in her eyes. Has seen it each time they have met at the shores and watched the waves. The one time he had coaxed her to tell him of what she had been taken from had left him so shaken by her grief that he had not dared to ask again. Her haunting song still echoed around his mind whenever he looked to the sea, and yet even knowing her anguish he still thinks of keeping her.
There in that moment he is truly a beast to himself as he makes his way through the rasping sand and holds the pelt that represents everything he has ever wanted closer to his chest. He is close enough now that she has noticed him, her slender form leaving the rock and preparing to step forward and greet him. The smile on her face makes his self-loathing rise sharp and painful in his chest, he does not deserve that look. Something must warn her of the impending encounter because the selkie stops before she can reach him, hesitancy entering her posture and unease twists her features.
Bog makes an effort not to tighten his grip again as he also stops moving, the two of them standing just out of arms reach on the cool sands. Her eyes travel his features, taking in his lip, the cut and the deep sadness that hoods his eyes. He notices the instant she recognizes what he has, her eyes lighting up in fierce joy for a single instant before suspicion floods them.
She Looks at him then, the only sound the rushing of the waves at their back. He says nothing, throat working uselessly as he drinks in the sight of her standing beautiful and untamed before him. There is anger rising in her eyes now, a twist to her lips that suggests a sneer of disappointment and disgust. It is the betrayal blooming in her expressive features however that decides his actions, tips the scales and breaks his heart in one fell swoop.
His voice is soft, barely above a murmur as he holds out her coat, the heavy fur lying in his open palm; gleaming dully under the light as he offers his prize.
“A wild thing should not be caged.”
Shame coats the tone, resignation layered in every syllable. Yet he cannot regret his decision when she reaches for her skin, wary hope chasing away the more negative emotions from only a few moments ago. There is a slightly manic gleam to her eyes now and he draws away from her, unwilling to test his restraint as he watches her gaze bounce from the beckoning waters to the long lost treasure in her arms where it belongs. There are no words as she strips the human garb from her body and flings herself into her own pelt with a reckless impatience, her legs already beginning to propel her forward.
Bog does not watch her depart. His back is turned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he listens to the rasp of bare feet on sand and the sudden splashing of the selkie entering the water. He does not look back as he climbs the hill with its rough stone pathway, knowing that the beach is as empty as his own heart. Ahead, high on the cliffs above the ocean, his little cottage sits dark and silent, waiting for him to enter. Alone no longer sounds pleasing when he mouths the word, now only loneliness will be there for him when he treads the paths he knows so well.
He does not bother to light a candle when he closes the door behind him. The moonlight still suits his mood even as its soft glow kindles the hurt inside his soul. His flute is sitting by the hearth as he passes it, set there by careful fingers when his had grown slack from shock when she had kissed him. The duet of instrument and voice were a part of the very walls now, sunk in by the sheer happiness that he had felt in her presence. Silently Bog placed the carved bone into its container and closed the lid. The time for music was past. He needed to focus on his work now, not what had and could have been.
Hours later, when the moon was at its peak; far below the cliffs in the rolling waves of silver blue, a dark sleek head broke the water’s surface. Pale gold eyes stared at the empty beach for a time, flicking up to the dark smudge of the cottage for a single instant. Then the form was gone, racing back to the depths in gleeful abandon. There would be time later to return, for now there was simply the joy of freedom and wide open spaces and of coming home. For the unprecedented had happened that night, a selkies coat returned to her willingly when it could have been kept. And that choice made all the difference.